Borovian Trilogy: Curse on the Crown
by vrangr
Summary: Too often, a dark history is relived. A kingdom that has served under the White Witch by force pays the price for trying to fight back. Edmund/OC -disclaimer: rights to Clive Staples Lewis-
1. Prologue

**Full Summary: **Years after the Battle of Beruna, the Pevensies have taken their places as the rightful kings and queens of Narnia. But as monarchy, they must read about the surrounding countries, and Narnia's history, before and during the Long Winter. They apparently had allies, countries that risked their welfare for the better of Narnia, and one that took the risk actually paid the price. Borovia used to be part of the lands but it has vanished from the map. History tells the tale of its downfall against the White Witch and how the cruel queen allowed no survivors and granted no mercy towards them.

History said there were no survivors.

Fate decreed otherwise.

**Author's Note:** This is a different version of the Prologue, since I believe I started a bit rocky before. Sorry about that :)

**Prologue**

Something woke her up, something dreadful. At first all she heard was the silence of the winter night and next she heard the dreadful screams that rose throughout the country. _They've come,_ she thought, and being prepared for this moment only grabbed her cloak and ran out of her quarters.

"Get up, princess. Now!"

Eleanor, the child princess tossed and turned in her little bed, wishing to be left to sleep, but the voice came again followed by a good shake by the shoulder. Eleanor closed her eyes tightly and soon noticed other sounds around her. Curiosity aroused, the child sat up in bed and found the eyes of her maidservant, Maria staring at her in the dark. Eleanor squinted as Maria began shuffling about the room, "What's wrong, Maria?" asked the little girl. "Hush, my princess. There's no time. We must leave at once." The maid hastily buttoned an overdress on Eleanor's nightclothes and threw a cloak on the princess. The child was never so confused in her life, "Maria, what-"

"Hush. Stay silent, and follow me. Make haste, princess!"

Eleanor soon found herself being dragged out of her grand quarters and into the cold corridors of the castle. The moment she left the room she was greeted by the sound of war: the shouts of men and women alike, within and out of the palace, the cling-clang of armor against armor, and the heartbreaking cries of numerous children from the village outside. Eleanor's eyes widened in terror as she felt Maria's handclasp tightly around hers and they made their way down the winding halls. Soon enough, Eleanor found the displeasing scent of blood being wafted in the air through the castle. She cringed. Something was terribly wrong. To validate her thoughts, Maria led the way through an open hall that looked down to the lower floors. Eleanor could have screamed, but she was too terrified to even open her mouth, for below her she saw a battle being waged. Being such a young girl, one would think that witnessing a battle in her own home would be terrifying, and it no doubt was. Eleanor tried to make out the soldiers and to whose sides they belonged but the maidservant pulled her further down the hall. Eleanor found herself running through the chambers of the Old Pillars and saw each of the stone structures looming menacingly above her in the dim light. Passing the hall, the two darted through a large arch that led to the floors that Eleanor's mother had forbidden her to enter. It was a dreadful passage. Dark and cold, the narrow way had been paved with stone and had windows that only allowed very little moonlight to come through. The princess squirmed. Maria stopped midway and knelt before the princess, "Listen to me, my princess," said she and revealed a golden necklace from her sleeve. She made to place it on Eleanor but the child princess shied away, "What's happening to Borovia?" she cried. Maria looked horrified, "Not so loud!" she said. Eleanor, being a young and scared girl only wailed louder, "I want mama! Where is she?"

Maria had no choice. She forced the necklace around the child's neck and said, "Do not lose this, no matter what. Do not-- "

"Who goes there?"

Both Eleanor and Maria fell in a dead silence as the voice spoke again, "Borovian traitors?" it cackled bitterly and soon Maria could see the faint glow of a torchlight flashing against the stonewalls behind her and the princess. Eleanor's eyes grew wide and suddenly felt herself being lifted from the ground. Maria began a frantic run down the hall and soon came to a fork of two paths. The maid chose the left and began to deliberately brush herself against the wall. Eleanor would have asked what the reason behind this measure was but she was scared as she saw the torchlight flit behind them then disappear. _Maybe it went down a different path,_ the princess mused. Maria set her down to the floor and laid a hand on an unusual polished stone on the wall. She muttered something under her breath and a language foreign to Eleanor reached her ears. Her eyes widened as the stones in the wall began to shift and gape to reveal a dark secret passageway beyond. Maria, without hesitance, grabbed Eleanor's hand and pulled her through just as the stones closed in behind them.

Eleanor found it terribly dark in the passageway that she relied on Maria completely to watch their passing. Maria kept her hand on the princess's, who struggled so much to keep up with the maidservant. Eleanor found herself taken through twisting paths and various staircases always leading them lower and lower underground. What happened next though, was most unexpected.

"Some one's down here!"

The voice called out and Maria heard heavy footfalls behind them. She breathed hard and though trying to sound brave, Eleanor could clearly hear the fear in her voice.

"They're in the tunnel," Maria whispered, "How?" she was so stricken by fear that she resorted to carrying Eleanor again. Running swiftly, Maria came to a long flight of stairs that led narrowly up. She finally came to a great wooden door with iron bolts and locks. Setting the princess down, Maria pushed hard on the door and ushered the child out before her. The door led outside to the back of the castle. Eleanor had never been more glad to have arrived outside, and to have seen the snowy plains before her. Maria soon followed, shut the heavy door and again muttered something under her breath. Eleanor heard the strange language once again and she soon heard the bolts behind the door lock themselves shut. Maria walked over to the young girl, "Come here," she said worriedly, "Listen to me. I haven't much time."

"But why? What is happening to Borovia?" Eleanor could not help but feel hot tears fill her eyes and roll down her cheeks. Maria was alarmed again and she looked quickly around her, "Quiet, princess! They'll hear you!"

"Who will hear us? I don't understand! I wan my mama, my papa!"

"Princess, _listen to me!"_

But it was too late at that moment. Maria heard soft foot falls walk towards them. She looked to her right and growled. She stood bravely before the child princess, "Jadis," she hissed. Eleanor cowered fearfully behind her maidservant, so terrified of the woman who now stood before them. She knew her. Her mother had told her who she was. This woman, pale faced and tragically beautiful with lips the red of blood and eyes the lovers of death; her body covered in fur in the color of the blue of winter, a crown of ice atop her head, was the White Witch Jadis. Her gaze fell on the princess for a moment and she laughed sweetly as she turned to look back at Maria, "Narnian," she began. Eleanor tore her eyes from the Witch and looked up at her maid, who did not flinch. Maria was a Narnian? How? The maidservant never seemed to speak of her origins at all, but Eleanor had not made anything of it. But of all origins, was her maidservant truly from Narnia? The Witch spoke on, "You're just like any other I have killed," she smiled, "Are you not tired?" Jadis's smile left her face and she added spitefully, "Your country is already suffering."

Maria replied bravely, "My country may be under your accursed winter, Jadis. But it won't be for long, neither will Borovia!"

"Fool!" the Witch said angrily.

"I am no fool, Witch! Aslan has not abandoned Narnia yet. The prophecy _will_ be fulfilled, and you _will_ be ripped of a crown that is _not_ yours to wear!"

Jadis screamed angrily, and in her rage, raised her long smooth blade and struck at the maid. Shrieking in utter shock, Eleanor saw Maria grip her stomach and kneel to the ground. The princess held onto her, "No! You can't – Don't go, please!"

Maria smiled weakly, "Don't lose the necklace," she said, "I did this for Narnia. Now go." And with that as her last words the maidservant fell dead on the ground. Jadis sneered and looked coldly at the princess, "Finally."

Eleanor stood and staggered backwards.

"Eleanor!"

The child princess swiveled to find her mother and siblings, rushing towards her.

"Mama," Eleanor cried, "Stay back!"

The Witch laughed, "Well, what have we here? Come to speak truce, Your Majesty?" The queen gritted her teeth, "What do you think you're doing?"

"Don't question me," Jadis's voice rose, "You have already pledged your loyalty."

"Only under your wicked spell!" the queen spat, "Borovia will fight, even to the death for what you have to done to us, and our neighboring lands—"

"Silence yourself, my queen," Jadis said forcefully, "I may spare your life."

"To the death, White Witch, Empress of _nothing!"_

Jadis laughed, "Do you really think that can stop me?" Before any of the three royals could react, the White Witch had struck their mother dead. Eleanor froze as she watched her own mother fall. Her breath caught in her chest, her heart pounded fiercely in her ears. The sound of a sword being unsheathed startled her and she saw her older brother growl and the Witch. The child made to run forward, "Ludwig, don't!"

Ludwig never took his eyes off of the Witch, "Mathilda!" he called, addressing his next sister, "Take Eleanor, keep safe!"

Eleanor screamed and rushed forward only to be grabbed by Mathilda who tearfully tugged at her sister and ran. Eleanor caught a glimpse of her brother behind her lashing his blade furiously at the Witch. Mathilda cried and ran on, pulling Eleanor along towards the nearest woods. Then, as the sisters ran, Eleanor felt the brush of light petals against her cheek and she heard Maria's soft voice, calm and sure, _"To Narnia, my princess. May Aslan be by your side."_

Eleanor breathed hard and slowed as the petals disappeared from sight, leaving the child wondering if she ever saw them at all. What happened next left her in grief, pain, and shock all at once. Mathilda had fallen dead to the ground, a spear through her back. Eleanor cried and cried, her last family, gone forever. She knelt by her sister, screaming to the skies when the Witch arrived, her face cold and furious, "Are you next, Borovian girl? Come to me!"

"No!" Eleanor said through her tears, "Stay away!" She was rooted to the spot, so young and unsure of what to do, so lost and too scared to move. Jadis was about to take another step forward when an arrow, coated in brilliant gold with scarlet feathers at its end struck the ground between the Witch and the princess. The princess choked her tears back as she heard a deep and gentle voice tell her, _"Run now, child. And do not look back. I will be with you all the way."_ Eleanor felt a strange wave of calm as the voice spoke to her, but it was soon replaced by fear when it ended. Tearing away from her sister she made for the Western Woods but felt her feet taking her there as if at their own will. She heard the Witch scream furiously behind and that only made her run even faster. Plunging through the trails, she ran. Eleanor looked up and found the trees rustling their leaves and bending at the cold wind, standing above her with branches stretching far above and blotting out the sky.

She was unsure of how long she ran when she finally tripped on a protruding branch and fell heavily on the ground. The child struggled to get up but found her legs had grown unbearably sore and her breathing had become terrible gasps. She looked around and felt her vision failing too.

The last thing she saw was a friendly looking beaver, which unusually, seemed to look concerned about her. And strange of all, though she did not hear a sound, its lips moved.

**Author's Note: **Prologue of the trilogy! :) Please review. You know any writer loves them :)


	2. Chapter 1: Red of Blood

**Author's Note: **I changed the Prologue because of it's typographical errors :)

I thought this would take longer to write, but apparently I was too inspired to just sit and do nothing. Thanks to your reviews :) Enjoy!

**Chapter 1: Red of Blood**

"En garde!" Edmund Pevensie smiled slyly as his brother, Peter, struck near the hilt of his sword. Both were equal when it came to sparring, but both also improved every time they got together for practice.

Another blow. Edmund sprinted to the left and outstretched his blade to the right. Peter stumbled from his maneuver and bellowed laughter, "Brilliant, Ed!"

Edmund laughed back and the brothers continued their play.

Edmund strode close to his brother and locked blades, "Time to get a little more fun, eh, Pete?"

Before Peter could react, Edmund twisted his sword, and with the blades still locked, would have successfully disarmed Peter if it weren't for the elder brother's quick reflexes.

"Not fair!" Peter laughed and charged after Edmund who now ran under the shade of a tree, "Come and get me, you old fool!" the younger teased. Peter swung his sword forward as Edmund blocked it above his head. A lower swing sent him jumping on a branch, and he let out a loud "Ha!"

Peter followed and both of them now had to keep balanced as they exchanged blows with their swords while dodging each other's blades on a branch.

"Boys!"

Peter glanced to the right and saw Susan marching through the sparring field. The expression on her face clearly showed her disapproval of what her brothers were up to. Peter laughed and looked Edmund in the eye, "Time to end this once and for all, or we'll both be bent to Susan's arrows."

Edmund took his challenge as he blocked a hard swing above his head. Seizing the opportunity, he kicked at Peter's feet, tripping him and he fell off of the branch a short distance to the ground. Edmund stabbed at the air, "King Edmund, the Just, prevails!"

"Boys!"

Edmund sheathed his sword into his belt and Peter did the same thing and helped him down, "That was a good one, Ed. But next time," Peter shook hands, "You'll be bowing to me."

The two brothers laughed good-naturedly as their sister approached them. The hint of irritation in her voice was not be disregarded, "Did you not hear me the first time, you pair of fools?" she retorted, "Blast it, the two of you!"

Edmund smiled naughtily, "For Goodness' sake, Su, we've been doing this for over three years already!"

Susan sighed, "I know. Both of you are experienced swordsmen, but I won't have you risking anything when it's not even a real battle."

Peter nodded, "We appreciate your concern, Su."

Edmund added, "But trust us. We won't do anything foolish like last time."

Susan laughed heartily, "Last time? _Last time?_"

Peter and Edmund looked at each other embarrassed. The last time the boys played, Peter had sent Edmund's sword flying out of his hand and through the field when Tumnus was just about to call them to supper. The poor faun was terrified at the zipping blade and fell to the grass in order to dodge it.

Edmund cleared his throat, "Yes. Last time." and smiled sweetly.

Susan nodded, "Very well. Now come, the Council wants us in for lessons."

"We'll be up in a minute, Su. We'll just pick up the mess of swords and belts over there." Peter pointed about ten feet away from where they stood to a spot where they had left two other swords and their belts lying on the ground. Susan gave them a questioning look, "Not sharp enough? You don't usually bring extra swords."

Edmund nodded, "True. We'll have to sharpen them later."

"After lessons," Susan pressed.

"Yes, Susan!" the brothers exclaimed. Susan, satisfied, trotted ahead to the castle. Peter watched after her and said solemnly, "Three years, Ed."

Edmund nodded, "We've been in Narnia for three years. I wonder how much time has passed in England."

Peter shrugged, "I don't know, but last one to those swords has to sharpen all four today!"

Edmund started in surprise. Peter was taller, and faster. He knew he'd have a job to do tonight, thanks to his brother.

"Your Majesties," said one of the members of the Council, "You are tardy this afternoon."

Truth be told, it was another half-hour before Edmund and Peter reached the study of Cair Paravel. They had lost track of time and ended up being ten minutes late to find that their sisters had already begun the lesson with Ortemius, the Old Teacher of the Council.

Edmund bowed courteously, as did Peter, and both asked for pardon.

"It is all right," said Ortemius as he gestured to the books stacked on the large table before them. Edmund seated himself at his usual chair, aside Lucy. Peter and Susan sat across them. Ortemius instructed the students to take their quills and scrolls and begin taking their notes as the Teacher looked through the pages of his book.

The study of Cair Paravel showed no sign of its age. The marble walls of the room had been polished and decorated with Narnian banners, each with the golden symbol of the lion, Aslan. The windows that lined the wall had panes that were a deep polished mahogany, with carved-in designs said to be gifts from the Dryads when Cair was built.

In the room was a great carpet that stretched itself elegantly on the stone floor and under a long table on which was used for the monarchs to study. Shelves of old leather-bound books, and scrolls lined the walls between each of the four great windows.

Ortemius nodded towards all four monarchs and said, "Forgive me, Your Majesties, for we will not be taking your regular Arithmetic today."

"What of the reason, Teacher?" Lucy asked inquisitively.

Ortemius dipped his chin onto his beard, "The Council has decided that we must teach you more History, as it may be to your advantage as you rule Narnia."

Edmund wrinkled his nose, and being the outspoken boy that he was, asked almost rudely that Lucy kicked him under the table when he said, "But arithmetic aids us in battle in our defenses for Narnia."

The Teacher, understanding Edmund's spritely manner chuckled and answered calmly, "True, my king, but if you do not know what has been done in the past, what then is there to know about what to do at the present?"

Edmund was taken aback by his words and shyly tapped his quill on his scroll. Susan whispered to him, "Honestly, you should have known that back in England."

"Oh, shut it."

"No matter," Ortemius turned to the board behind him, which showed a sketch of the map of Narnia and its surrounding countries. The monarchs recognized all but one that had a strange and indefinite location between the Western Woods and Shuddering Woods. It was a mark that took up a place a bit East of the Telmar River. A small mark, it was, and it made the siblings curious of it.

"This won't be just _any _history lesson, will it, Teacher?"

Peter, Edmund and Susan were a bit surprised to hear the seriousness in Lucy's voice. Their sister had matured, no doubt, but such a tone was still unexpected of her.

Ortemius nodded, "My queen, you are sharp. There has been a rumor of a certain 'Forgotten Land' southeast of the Telmar River and situated southwest of the Shuddering Wood." As the Teacher pointed on the different geographical locations on the map, the siblings looked at each other. They had passed that location when they first arrived in Narnia three years ago.

"The kingdom of Borovia," Ortemius said gravely, "We thought it was just a rumor that this country ever existed, but we have found solid evidence that it _did_ exist, and we have a terrible theory of how it came to fall."

"How, Teacher? What is your theory?" Peter asked.

"During the Long Winter, Narnia had allegiances with Archenland, and Calormen, and though overtime society has changed among your people and theirs, history cannot deny the bond you shared over the will to topple the White Witch."

Susan furrowed her brow, "But at that time, over a century ago…"

Lucy nodded, "The population would have been impossible for a solid army."

"True, Your Majesties," Ortemius said, "Which is why Borovia was our ally as well."

Edmund raised his eyebrows, "And that poses your theory," he began when Ortemius ended it of him, "That Borovia perished under Jadis's power during a certain battle."

Lucy, being a young girl of sympathy had a tremor in her voice when she asked, "The _entire_ country?"

"Yes, my queen."

Ortemius walked over one of the shelves and took out four identical books. Each one was old and tattered, and even from looking at the exterior one could see the yellowed pages.

As the Teacher began handing out the books to his students Edmund couldn't take his eyes off the mark of Borovia. He felt a wave of sympathy for the country, and a pang of hate and anger towards Jadis, even if she was now dead. He, being the Just, felt for those who died against the Witch, and even though he never knew of Borovia until now, his heart felt strangled as he thought of how the country suffered. What if Narnia had been the same? How would they have been remembered? Would there have been another opened prophecy?

Before he could cast himself even deeper into his thoughts, Ortemius lay a gentle hand on his shoulder and looked at him carefully as he handed Edmund his book, "I pray thee well, Your Majesty."

"Thank you, Teacher," Edmund croaked.

Ortemius moved slowly with age and reached the head of the table, "My lieges, please turn the pages with care to 347."

The monarchs did as told.

"We have found solid evidence of the previous existence of Borovia in these books," Ortemius explained, "Each of those books are identical on the outside, but each one of those books has a different message to convey about Borovia."

Edmund began reading as Ortemius instructed, "Your job is to find that message."

Edmund read for the next hour with his siblings. He scoured the pages of 347 through 400 until he came upon a riddle:

_Peace of Mind, and Red of Blood_

_A treasure worth no Gold in the World_

_Lost Forever._

"Teacher, was this book written by writers from generations, or by a single man?" Edmund looked up from the book. Ortemius replied, "Different writers from the generations of monks."

Edmund nodded, "Therefore this must have been written by one who had old memories of Borovia and its last battle against the Witch."

Rereading the verse to his Teacher and siblings, Edmund also offered his analogy. _Peace of Mind, and Red of Blood,_ though it could hold numerous meaning is given clarity in the next line: _A treasure worth no Gold in the World. _Thus suggesting an item of great importance points to Man's mind and his life, _Lost Forever, _lost for all eternity, just as the country of Borovia. The entire verse explains the demands of war.

"Well done, Your Majesty!" Ortemius smiled. Edmund dipped his chin modestly, "Thank you, Teacher."

"Now, my king, read the pages at the back of the book and see to the history of Borovia. I have arranged it with the other Council," and turning to the others he said, "Read on, Your Majesties. You are sure to find the message."

_Borovia, now known as the Forgotten Land, was a country situated on the southeast of the Telmar River and southwest of the Shuddering Woods. Ancient runes around this area produced old stone most likely from castle walls and other broken valuables. According to records from Archenland, Ettinsmoor and Galma, Borovia was a land with a population that specialized in the field of warfare._

_Borovia was the center of good weaponry and skilled warriors, first to Narnia. It was no wonder how the two countries had become allies against the White Witch during the century's Long Winter. _

_The country was ruled last by King Marthelius and his wife, Queen Vericha. The other monarchy consisted of the three siblings, Prince Ludwig, Princess Mathilda, and Princess Eleanor. Unfortunately, because of the conflict with the White Witch Jadis, Empress of the Lone Islands, none but Prince Ludwig reached the age of throne inheritance before dying._

Edmund cringed and he turned the page to see an abstract pattern printed on the entire space of the paper. It was a complicated design of a regal looking lot of people. A man with a well-trimmed beard and facial structures fit for a king stood alongside a woman, whose long red hair was neatly held back under her crown, stared back at Edmund with sure and stern eyes. Edmund traced his fingers gently over the page and he saw three others. A boy, about Peter's present age, stood by the right of his father with his left hand resting on the hilt of a sword. A girl, to the right of her mother stood poised, and though her expression was one of a ruler, her eyes still smiled. But what caught Edmund's eyes, strangely enough, was a young girl who stood at the front and center. Her auburn hair was pinned behind her head. Her child-like face was so innocent. Her eyes held an expression of one who was eager to learn so many things about her world. It was enough to make Edmund want to grieve for this family. The last monarchy that stood for Borovia, and whose people perished under the cruelty of Jadis. They had died for his country. They had died for Narnia, and looking into the faceof the child princess made Edmund want to weep and curse and haunt all those who had caused Borovia its end.

Lucy seemed note of her brother's tension, "Edmund?" she asked and lay a light hand on her brother's arm. She noticed his tense muscles relax under her calming touch, "Lu. I'm all right."

Glancing across the table, Edmund was glad to find Ortemius deep in conversation with his siblings. Edmund took in a slow and relieving breath and returned to reading.

"Edmund!"

Edmund walked, dazed from his lesson and in an attempt to clear his thoughts, through the gardens of Cair Paravel. It was nearing dusk, and the sky was now tainted a dark blue as the sun hid silently behind the clouds. Edmund, thinking over his lessons, could hardly believe the fate of Borovia, and just when he thought he and his siblings had restored all peace in Narnia.

_Nothing's perfect,_ he told himself.

"Edmund!"

Edmund spun around, suddenly aware that someone had been addressing him. He found Peter running towards him from about twenty feet behind. It didn't take too long for him to catch up, "Edmund, what's the matter?" Peter asked, concerned.

Edmund cocked his head to one side, "Pardon?"

"You've seemed a little off since the lessons we had with Ortemius."

"Oh. No matter, I have it sorted."

Peter nudged his brother, "You can always come to any of us, Ed. We're here for each other, are we not?"

Edmund smiled and nodded, "So we are. By Aslan, we are."

Peter smiled and breathed in the night air, "D'you realize Susan will have our heads if she found us walking out here without proper tunics to block off the cold?"

Edmund laughed with good humor, "I am certainly aware of the price I have to pay for enjoying a wonderful night outside!"

Peter let out another bark of laughter at the joke. Edmund was glad for his brother. Without him, he wouldn't have anyone to confide with. Edmund then recalled how things were in the past. He hated Peter with every minute he breathed. Peter was always on his mother's good side, never getting into trouble and always being like a dad to Susan and Lucy. But when it came to Edmund, Peter always addressed him as the troublemaker. Edmund hated him mostly for that reason, of course.

And then three years ago he and his siblings found themselves in Narnia. The experience changed Edmund completely and made him who he was today: King Edmund, the Just of Narnia. He had also resolved everything with his siblings, and as a result, strengthened the bond between them. Edmund could never have been more grateful for that.

"We should be headed back, you know," Peter declared as the last of the sun's rays disappeared to welcome the nocturne. Edmund nodded in agreement, "Let us."

After supper, as Edmund had remembered from Peter's previous agreement, Edmund went to his quarters to dress in a warmer shirt and tunic and proceeded to the stables. Whilst walking, the king ran into the stablehand, a faun named Durmin.

"Out for a horse at this hour, Your Majesty?" the faun asked and was about to turn to walk back to the stables.

"No need, Durmin. Thank you," Edmund smiled and explained that his reason for going to the stables was to work on his swords. Durmin again offered help but Edmund declined.

Reaching the tack room Edmund found the swords fit into their belts just as he and Peter had left them earlier. Normally they would return them to the weapon room, but since the blades needed sharpening, and the belts could use some oiling, Edmund had suggested they leave them in the tack room at the stables where they kept the necessary cleaning tools for leather and whetstones for the swords.

Edmund gently took the first two of the swords from their racks and seated himself quietly on a stool. Carefully he unsheathed the first sword and began sharpening the blade. He worked quietly until he began to feel a little too lonely, "For Aslan," he mumbled, "If I keep this up, I'll lose my sanity." Edmund chuckled at his own joke and decided to sharpen the swords with the one companion he could be with at the moment.

"Hello, Phillip," Edmund greeted quietly, careful not to awake the other horses. Phillip snorted and his eyes smiled, "What brings you here, Edmund? Are you not exhausted from today's activites?"

Edmund shook his head and leaned against Phillip's stall door, "I was wondering if you could keep me company while I sharpen these swords and polish the leather."

Phillip nudged Edmund gently on the arm, "Let me loose outside and we can talk there. I wouldn't want my comrades awakened out of you sharpening."

Edmund smiled and scratched Phillip behind the ears. Hoisting the two swords on his shoulder, he quietly entered the stall and unlatched the door that led to the outer pastures. Phillip trotted out and Edmund followed.

"But, Edmund," Phillip began. Edmund nodded, "What is it?"

"I know something is bothering you. Three years allowed me to understand you."

Edmund coughed, "I see," he said and seated himself on the grass and started sharpening, "It was today's lessons, actually."

Phillip lay beside the young king, "Arithmetic proved difficult?"

Edmund smiled and shook his head. He loved Arithmetic and never failed an exam given by Ortemius. Phillip nudged him again and encouraged him to continue talking.

"It was about Borovia. The monarchy. It bothers me what that Witch has done!"

Phillip snorted in disgust at the mention of Jadis, "Ah, but, my king," said he, "It is about time you were taught Narnia's history."

"Phillip, it's cruel! It's unfair!" Edmund skillfully thrust the sword into the ground, angry at himself for letting his fury get the better of him, but satisfied that the blade was not so badly scuffed that it needed to sharpened anymore than a few minutes. In fact, Edmund now doubted that it ever needed sharpening in the first place. He felt Phillip's warm breath on his hair, "I know you despise the Empress. I cannot believe I despise her more than you do, for it is you who witnessed her wrath first-hand."

Edmund sighed and sheathed the sword to proceed to the next one, "Thanks, Phillip, for your sympathy. But she killed those children!"

Edmund examined the blade and noticed some scuffing at the end. He decided to just work in that area, "And I'm not just speaking of the monarchy. I speak of all the other young ones who couldn't even live to see another sunrise. I grieve for them. In my heart I grieve for them. Why hadn't she allowed any survivors? Why Borovia and not Narnia itself- I mean, not that I want Narnia killed in place of Borovia." Edmund caught himself then and heard a soft gurgle of laughter from Phillip, "But no survivors…" he continued. Edmund ran the whetstone over and over again on the blade. He listened to the musical monotone of the stone against metal. He knew then and there that his weapon may have just been the sister of all the other weapons that were sisters of the same swords used in that fateful night in Borovia.

_War._ Edmund spat.

For another hour he and Phillip shared fragments of their day, the conversation always managing to get caught in a cycle to Borovia. Edmund sighed after another hour passed and he had already finished with the fourth sword. He had gone back and forth to the stables just to get things done. Phillip had gently urged him to rest for the night and leave the polishing of the leather belts to Durmin and the other stablehands, for the hour that Edmund was out of the castle had turned ungodly. Edmund consented.

Taking the last sword in his hand Edmund and Phillip stood from the ground when both, with keen senses, saw two dark figures dart from the far end of the pasture. Edmund, by instinct drew the newly sharpened sword from its belt, "Did you see that?"

Phillip pawed impatiently at the ground, "I did. And whoever it is, I want him to know he will not disturb us here."

Edmund looked down at the blade in his hand. It gleamed under the moonlight, newly sharpened, ready for kill. And even as he recalled what he had been brooding over the passed hours; he knew what the sword in his hand was meant for. Mounting Phillip, who readily accepted him, galloped to the far-end of the field towards that direction where he had spotted the two figures.

**Author's Note:** It took me a while to understand the different geographical locations in Narnia. I think I got some things wrong. The riddle worries me though. Please tell me if it makes any sense at all. haha! Anyway, thanks for taking time to read, and I hope you continue with me on our journey. :)


	3. Chapter 2: Untimely Hours

**Author's Note: **I am very sorry you had to wait so long. It took quite a handful of thinking to get the events here right :) I thank you for your reviews and I look forward to many more.

**Chapter 2: Untimely Hours**

"It was somewhere here through the brush," Philip said as he waited for Edmund to dismount. The young king landed lightly on the ground, keeping as quiet as possible. Sword in hand, he crept down a shallow slope until he found an old and unused trail that ran in sharp twists and turns to the back of Cair Paravel. Edmund wrinkled his nose. No one else but Cair's residences new of the old trail, for it was used for most of the servants for quiet passage. How could the intruder have found out about the old path?

Edmund was about to ponder more on his thoughts Philip when snorted behind him, "Edmund, I can hear something to your left."

Edmund nodded and quietly walked down the trail until he reached a density of brush before him. Unsure of himself, and of Philip's statement of hearing something there, Edmund held out a hand, caressing the leaves of the brush for a moment whilst listening for anything unusual when he heard voices, apparently, in argument.

"Not now. She'd be upset if we made any decision without consulting her first."

Edmund took note of the raspy and distressed voice. It seemed unusually…_familiar._

"We don't have a choice. She's not safe in the woods alone."

As a high-pitched voice sounded, calm, soothing, and firm, Edmund felt a chill down his spine. Where had he heard these voices before?

The raspy voice spoke again, this time more agitated than before, "Alone? _Alone?_ For the Lion's sake! There are dryads, us, the trees-"

"All of them capable of being her spies."

"_We_ aren't her spies!"

"_We_ are now more often than necessarily needed at Cair. Don't you ever get the feeling that the kings and queens are getting suspicious that we only show up one at a time? Either I alone, or you?"

As silence found its way into the conversation, Edmund's confusion grew at the mention of he and his siblings. He wrestled with his thoughts, trying to figure out to whom these voices might belong to, for it was clear he knew them. Edmund's trance was broken when the raspy voice spoke again.

"But…How will we convince her?"

"We will convince her that the monarchs know of Bfivoria-"

Edmund froze at the sound Borovia's native name. Who were these people to be speaking of he and his siblings, along with Borovia at the same time?

"-and that they know about her kingdom's tragedy. I'm sure by now the Council has ensured their history lessons."

Silence.

"You are sure you want to do this?"

Edmund yelped as his foot slipped off of a loose stone that was wedged onto the uneven ground. He fell accordingly on his bum.

"Who goes there? Old eavesdropper, I'll chop you to bits!"

Edmund tried to shuffle away as the brush rustled before him and from behind appeared-

"Mr. Beaver?" Edmund stared at the beaver, and Mr. Beaver stared back.

"What is it, dear?"

Edmund looked behind Mr. Beaver to see who had spoken. It was his wife. The three looked at each other with expressions of surprise. The silence hung for a moment before Edmund broke it off.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled and got up on his feet, "I thought you were intruders when I saw your figures run from across the pasture."

Mr. Beaver gulped, "S'all right," he huffed and shuffled with his paws, nervously eyeing the blade in Edmund's hand. The king did not notice the sense of discomfort.

"I didn't mean to eavesdrop so much, but-"

"You heard, my dear?" Mrs. Beaver looked up at Edmund, her beady black eyes searching his face for an answer.

"About Borovia," Edmund nodded, "We just had our lessons about it today."

"Oh, splendid!" Mrs. Beaver tried to hide the look of sheer relief from her face but with little success. Mr. Beaver barked, "What _splendid?_" he retorted, "There's nothing splendid about the situation!"

Mrs. Beaver whirled around and faced her stubborn husband snout-to-snout, "She needs protection!" she said, emphasizing her every word.

"Please."

The beavers, startled, turned their attention back to the king, as if they had forgotten he was still there, "Please. If there is a problem, I must know."

Mrs. Beaver's lips tightened, "We seek an audience from you and your siblings, Your Majesty."

Edmund was slightly taken aback by the formality when he realized that Mrs. Beaver must want to officiate something with the request. Mr. Beaver on the other hand, began to look solemn and uncertain. Edmund nodded, "You may have an audience with us tomorrow, Mrs. Beaver," he said.

That alone did not seem to put the conversation to its close, for Mrs. Beaver seemed to notice the look of confusion and question in Edmund's dark eyes. She sighed and said, "I know you wish to hear more of this conflict, dear but we cannot tell you everything now. We must consult you and the others at the same time."

Edmund nodded in agreement, "I understand."

"Now," Mrs. Beaver gestured to the position of the moon, "You are out at an hour that disagrees with your need for rest. Take to the castle, dear, and be quick. I don't want you getting all exhausted and groggy tomorrow because of this…_confusion_ in the brush."

Edmund nodded and sheathed his sword, having forgotten he had left it out in full view. This seemed to calm the expression on Mr. Beaver, "We beg pardon for being such a rouse at this time, Edmund," he said. Edmund looked at him and smiled weakly. The beaver continued, "You'll find out everything tomorrow."

It was another half-hour before Edmund found himself lying on his bed and pulling the sheets more securely around him. The events of the day seemed so coincidental. Firstly, Ortemius had exchanged their Arithmetic for History, and a very unusual topic of history. Borovia, a forgotten kingdom, whose past was a haunting of Jadis's footsteps, lost its monarchy and its people, and its very existence so long ago. Secondly, Edmund couldn't take the picture of the young Borovian princess out of his mind, how the child looked so bright and smart, and how she even seemed to look straight into his eyes. Thirdly, he had found the Beavers hiding secretly on the old trail arguing over something related to Borovia and, as it seemed, Narnia. Edmund growled under his breath. If all these thoughts were to continue running through his mind, then he wasn't going to get any decent sleep tonight. Tossing and turning for another hour left Edmund beginning to feel drowsy and dizzy with the deprivation of sleep. As he began to snuggle under the covers of the sheets and a wave of calm whispers from the Eastern Ocean outside his window reached his ears, Edmund found himself surrendering to sleep's calm and peaceful darkness.

"_Aslan knows that unless I have blood, as the law demands," Jadis turned behind her and faced the entire force of the Narnian army. The cold sound of her voice sent shivers through the body of soldiers as she continued her sentence, "All of Narnia will be overturned, and perish in fire and water!"_

_Gasps and agitated whispers filled the atmosphere and Jadis, pleased that she had inflicted a suitable amount of discomfort among the camp turned to Edmund and pointed savagely at him. Her dark and blood-loving eyes boring into his skin as she stared at him with much hate, "_That_ boy will die on the stone table," and with a final turn to Aslan whispered sweetly, "As is tradition."_

_Impatient to wait for an answer from the Great Lion, Jadis spoke again in a fierce and forceful tone, "You _dare not_ refuse me."_

_Edmund suddenly found himself pushed through a void of time and he felt the cold and icy air biting down his throat, therefore forbidding him to speak. He looked helplessly around him, horrified to see the Witch's ghouls and enslaved creatures clawing at him, reaching out and mocking him. Each of them seemed giddy with excitement as if preparing to devour a delicious feast of celebration. Edmund continued to walk through them until he stopped before a great structure of stone. Looking up he saw Jadis, dressed in deep green with a black-feathered wing behind her. She looked calm and peaceful, but when Edmund's eyes rested upon the object she held in her hands, he saw a jagged dagger with its blade ready, _happy,_ to slit the skin of its kill. Edmund's heart began to pound in his chest when he felt a great searing pain at his side as one of the Minotaur laughingly threw him to the ground with a heave of his weapon._

_Edmund fell and grazed his cheek on the hard and cold cement. Soon the creatures loomed over him, happily and excitedly binding him in rope and dragging him up the stone steps. He cried out in pain, unable to fight back. The creatures all laughed at his projected weakness as they laid him before Jadis. The White Witch knelt beside him and stroked his head gently. Laying a hand on his chest she smiled as she noted the heavy breathing of the boy in front of her, "Here, Edmund is the price you shall pay for your crime."_

_Forcing his face up to look at her, Edmund winced and stared into the dark eyes of the Witch. She smiled down sweetly at him, "Weep for your siblings, Edmund."_

_Jadis stroked his head again, "Weep for your siblings, just as Eleanor has wept for hers."_

_Fear struck Edmund like the stab of a sword. He heard the cry of a little girl ringing in his ears. She cried out in lament in a language he did not understand._

"_Novérra hégrilovwen! Novérra hégrilovwen!"_

_Again and again her voice cried, her sorrow gripping Edmund's heart as though he felt it as his own pain. Edmund cried out._

Edmund sprang up in bed with a gasp. He looked frantically around him: no creatures, no ghouls, no stone structures. He tried to listen to his surroundings: no girl's cry, and no strange language. Edmund swallowed, his breathing hard and heavy as if he had sprinted a mile without stopping. Wiping his brow, Edmund felt beads of cold sweat, "Great Lion," he panted and got out of bed to walk to the mirror. He saw his reflection staring wearily back. His face was pale and his hair was messily plastered on his forehead because of the sweat. Edmund cleared his throat and shook his head vigorously, "It's only a dream, Ed. Nothing wrong with an old dream."

Edmund stared back at his bed and laughed at the thought of going back to sleep, _I'm going mad,_ he thought as he grabbed a night robe and decided to take a walk down the halls.

Edmund stepped outside and sighed. He looked down the hallway and decided to walk to the library. Perhaps he could look for an old book to pass the time.

Entering the library, Edmund found it dark and eerie. He shrugged off the feeling and walked over to the main table where he saw four old leather-bound books lying opened on different pages. They were the Borovian books Ortemius had previously assigned to Edmund and his siblings to study for their next lesson. Edmund took his book and saw the pattern of the Borovian family. Again he saw the face of the little girl, her grey eyes illuminated by the moonlight that poured through the window. Edmund ran his finger gently on the girl's face, "How I wish I could have helped you and your family, Your Highness," he whispered, surprised at how his voice shook. He grunted and set the book down and looked around the library. It was a homey room, in Edmund's opinion and he understood why Lucy loved it so much. The couches set under the windows were cushioned in red velvet and had little pillows with Narnian embroidery that suited Lucy when she wanted something to set her elbows upon while reading a book. Further to the left of the room was a fireplace that served as a warming appliance during cold winters and windy springs. Three great pillars of stone held up the ceiling of the room, each pillar held the Narnian coat of arms. Edmund often associated the coat of arms with Peter's shield, for they looked similar, only the coat of arms had more intricate designs and proved more colorful than Peter's shield. Edmund looked to his right and saw the many bookshelves that stood in rows holding a large collection of books.

"King Edmund."

Edmund started at the mention of his name and turned to find Ortemius, cloaked in black and holding a candle before him, "My king, you startled me."

Edmund smirked, "Then we are even."

Ortemius walked to the middle of the room where Edmund stood by the great table upon which lay the four books, "What brings you to the library at this hour, Your Majesty?"

Edmund shrugged, "I couldn't sleep." He wasn't the least bit embarrassed that his teacher had to see him in his nightclothes. After all, he wasn't even expecting the Old Teacher to be in the library, "And you, Teacher?"

Ortemius let out a soft rumble of a chuckle, "I was looking for some records I may use for our next lesson."

Edmund narrowed his eyes. The answer seemed a little too vague.

"I was wondering, Teacher," he began. Ortemius nodded, "What of?"

"Could you tell me more about Bfivoria?"

Ortemius took one of the books and closed it. His voice deepened, as if strained, "Your Majesty," said he, "Is this not a strange hour to be inquiring about your lessons?"

Edmund's expression remained blank, "Is this not a strange hour that you should even be here yourself?"

Ortemius looked at him and the king added, "Teacher."

Ortemius slowly seated himself on a chair and set down the candle on the table, "What is it you wish to know?"

Edmund couldn't help but note the sense of hesitation in the Teacher's voice, yet he appeared as if it mattered little. Sitting as well, he said, "Is it not impossible that Jadis managed to wipe out the entire Borovian population in a single night?"

Ortemius looked at him gravely, "My king, you speak of the Empress's name carelessly."

"Does it matter?" Edmund asked, "She's dead."

Ortemius looked down at the candle, "True, it is impossible that there were no survivors."

"So you say, then, that there could possibly be a Borovian left out there. Perhaps still hiding from Jadis and her followers. There maybe even two survivors, three, a handful."

"My king," Ortemius said in a near growl, "These are unwise topics you wished to discuss."

"Tell me," the king challenged, "You seem so hesitant to answer any of my queries."

Ortemius laughed humorlessly, "So it seems. What do you make of it?"

"Would you really like to know?"

"Pray tell, my king." Ortemius looked at him over the small blaze of the candle. Edmund smirked, "I make that there is something you do not wish to tell me. Perhaps, a little secret you keep from me and my siblings, and maybe even the rest of Narnia. And," Edmund allowed his words to hang, "It is something about Borovia."

Ortemius grunted and shifted in his chair.

Edmund, displeased with the lack of answers, rose from his seat, "Very well," said he, "Since you seem uncomfortable on the subject. But know that these matters have not completely rested." And in his mind he added, _I'm sure you know more than you claim._

"Edmund…"

Edmund groaned as someone tried to rouse him up from bed. A gentle hand stroked his head, "Ed, do get up. You'll end up sleeping through the day again."

Edmund's eyes fluttered open and his brow was fixed in an uncomfortable furrow. Warm morning sunlight poured in from the windows and gave the room a friendly glow. He spoke, his voice hoarse, "Su?"

Edmund looked up to see his sister bent over him. Susan smiled and all concerns vanished from her face, "Time to get up, Ed. The Beavers will be meeting us in an hour or so at the Throne Room."

Edmund groggily sat up and rubbed his eyes.

Susan sat herself on the edge of the bed, "Had a rough sleep?"

"Just a little dream," he yawned, "Did I miss breakfast?"

"Not at all," Susan replied, "We haven't even started. I was first to wake up and to see to the castle when Tumnus came with news that the Beavers wanted an audience with us after breakfast."

Edmund nodded, "Are the others awake?"

"No. I was wondering if you could do that for me while I saw to the meal at the dining hall."

Edmund nodded, "All right then," he said and got out of bed. Susan smiled and walked out of the room, "I'll see you all later." She said and closed the door.

It only took a few minutes for Edmund to get fully dressed in a soft velvet shirt, a warm tunic, breeches and boots. He found himself quietly walking into Lucy's room and gently rousing his sibling awake. Lucy yawned and opened her round chocolate eyes, and almost at once, smiled when she saw Edmund, "Good morning, Ed!" she said and sprang up to give her brother one of her hugs. Edmund laughed, "Get dressed. Mr. and Mrs. Beaver want to see us after breakfast."

Edmund left Lucy's room after making sure she'd be getting ready and went into Peter's room. Now, if Edmund was sweet towards his sisters, he knew it was just absolutely _against_ the law to be that way towards his brother. So throwing open the door he jumped on his knees on Peter's bed and tickled him awake, "Get up, High King of Narnia! We shan't tarry this way all morning!"

Peter growled at the wake up call and punched Edmund on the arm, "By the Lion, Ed!" he laughed as he sat up. Edmund grinned boyishly at his brother, "Couldn't resist. Come on. Susan's seeing to breakfast, and we have to meet the Beavers soon after."

Peter didn't seem to be paying attention though. Edmund became uncomfortable under his stare, "What's wrong?"

"You have dark circles under your eyes. Didn't you sleep well?"

Edmund cleared his throat, "It was just a dream I had."

Peter nodded, "Do you want to talk about it?"

Edmund smiled, "No thanks, Pete." Getting off of the bed, Edmund opened the door and said, "I'll see you later." and closed the door behind him.

Breakfast was done quickly, for the Pevensies knew that they had to prepare for a meeting with the Beavers. Edmund noticed that neither of his siblings seemed to know anything about why the Beavers wanted to see them. Edmund shrugged and decided to let it pass instead of mentioning last night's event. Soon, the siblings found themselves sitting on their thrones and listening to Mr. and Mrs. Beaver's reasons for summoning an audience on short notice.

"Do understand that we have already asked for Edmund's permission on this," Mrs. Beaver said as they had all settled into the conversation. Peter, Susan and Lucy all looked to their right to Edmund. Peter asked, "You knew about this meeting?"

Edmund opened his mouth to explain when Mr. Beaver succeeded him instead. He told the three monarchs of what happened last night and when he finished the brief story, Susan asked, "But what were you doing at so late an hour outside, Edmund?"

Edmund answered without hesitation, "I was sharpening the swords out of a deal I had with Peter."

Susan smiled. Her brothers always seemed to get into these engagements.

"Anyway," Mr. Beaver said and cleared his throat, "We have come to tell you something of great importance."

Mrs. Beaver added, "Also of great secrecy."

All four monarchs leaned forward on their seats, eager to hear what the news was all about.

"Over ten years ago, as you might know, the kingdom of Borovia was attacked by Jadis and her army." Mr. Beaver began.

The Pevensies flinched. Borovia seemed to haunt them ever since they've learned of it from Ortemius.

"Go on," Peter said.

"During that battle, the ground of Narnia shook. In fact, it wasn't really a battle. It was more of a raid. Jadis attacked the unaware kingdom in the dead of night so as to take Borovia more easily."

"Why did the White Witch raid them in the first place?" Lucy asked sadly. Mr. Beaver sighed, "We don't know, dear. Everyone suspects that Borovia, after pledging allegiance out of force to the Witch decided to turn against her. And you know how the Witch punishes those who turn against her." Mr. Beaver's eyes fell on Edmund, who caught a sad and melancholy expression in the beaver's eyes.

"I know," Edmund whispered.

"During the battle," Mrs. Beaver said, "Beaver decided to scout the Western Woods in an attempt to help any survivors, if there were any. He found one."

"The poor girl," Mr. Beaver mumbled.

Edmund was now sitting on the edge of his throne. So it _was_ true. There _is_ a survivor! Mixed emotions coursed through his body as Edmund listened to the rest of what Mr. Beaver had to say.

"But not just any girl," said the beaver, "She, I believe, was the youngest princess of the monarchy. Princess Eleanor of Borovia."  
Susan gasped quietly, "Are you certain?"

"There's no doubt, Susan," Mr. Beaver nodded to emphasize his point, "The trees said so, for they watched her as she fled from the castle to the forest, and they shielded her from the view of the Witch."

"A sorrowful sight, they said," Mrs. Beaver whimpered and everyone turned to look at her, "The trees said that before she fled, she knelt upon her last sibling, a handsome girl, they said, and she cried out a sorrowful cry in her language."

Edmund cringed, "What did she cry?" he asked carefully. Mr. Beaver shook his head sadly as he beheld his wife, who was now on the verge of tears, "The dryads had translated, 'Don't hurt them! Don't hurt them!'"

Edmund looked away as the voice from his dreams rang in his ears once more. A young girl's agonized screams, pleading to the heavens in her native tongue. He remembered what she said.

"'_Novérra hégrilovwen…'"_ Edmund mumbled and he felt sick. Peter looked at him, his eyes full of concern, "Ed?"

"I dreamt about her," Edmund said, his breathing began pace faster, "She cried out in her little voice, again and again. _Novérra hégrilovwen! Novérra hégrilovwen!_ I remember it so clearly, I don't know why, but I heard her," Edmund looked away and down at his hands, "I heard her."

Mrs. Beaver nodded, "You said it so perfectly, Edmund dear. That was all she mumbled in her sleep for days when Beaver found her and brought her to our little dam."

"But hold on," Peter said, "If this was ten years ago, and she was taken to live with you in your dam-"

"She ran away when she was only eleven years old. That was about a year before you came to Narnia," Mr. Beaver made short calculations.

"Why did she leave?" Lucy asked concernedly, "Was she not aware that the Witch or her spies could easily find her?"

Mrs. Beaver shook her head, "By that time rumors of Aslan's return began to spread throughout Narnia and the White Witch could care less about Borovia, a kingdom that has fallen around five or six years ago."

"But how did she survive?" Peter asked, "Alone?"

Mr. Beaver let out a bark of laughter, which surprised the monarchs greatly because of the low mood, "I wouldn't be surprised that she _didn't_ get caught. She's a smart young girl, I say. She studied the way of the dryads and was therefore the stealth in the woods."

"But about a month ago, she returned," Mrs. Beaver said, "And was in need of help."

Mr. Beaver shook his head, "She came battered and wounded. We couldn't have been more shocked than the first time we saw her as a little girl."  
"What happened to her?" Edmund asked.

"The followers of the Witch found her and tried to kill her. She was lucky she was among the friendship of the trees for they awoke at the commotion and helped her flee." Mr. Beaver swallowed, "But now, we must ask you something."

"The woods are too dangerous for her!" Mrs. Beaver seemed to be pleading to the Pevensies, "And we can't provide her protection in our little dam. The followers will eventually find her there." Mrs. Beaver walked up to Peter, "Please, Peter dear. Please, I do beg of you. Take her in to Cair Paravel, where we will know that she is safe, and will never be harmed again." Mrs. Beaver still had the tone of stern yet gentle authority the whole time she spoke, "She has lived with a burden of knowing that she has no family, and we, the beavers, have raised her. The dryads befriended her. But even that is not enough. She needs those closest to her kin as she'll ever be."

Peter held up a hand and looked to his siblings in silent council. From the look in their eyes, especially Edmund's, Peter came up with an answer, "Say no more, Mrs. Beaver. We will welcome her here with open arms."

Mrs. Beaver let out a relief-filled, 'Oh' and nearly collapsed. She regained her composure quickly and said, "But there are…some complications."

Edmund nodded, "Do say."

"She has an awful trouble with trusting others," said Mr. Beaver, "It took her a while to trust me as well. The death of her family, which she had witnessed, took a great deal out of her."

Mrs. Beaver chimed in, "She also does not know that we want her to be taken here, but we have no choice. She remains in the forest, thus she risks getting hurt. I don't want that."

Lucy hissed, "No one does. The followers will pay."

The other siblings were taken aback as the valiance in their sister blazed forth in her eyes. Edmund agreed silently with her and said, "When shall we meet her?"

"As soon as possible. Another night will just kill us trying to make sure we sleep soundly knowing she's safe." Mrs. Beaver fussed anxiously with her fur.

Peter nodded, "Then we plan for tonight," and began his directions, "Edmund, address the fauns how it will best suit-"

Edmund was just about to stand when Mr. Beaver exclaimed, "No! Don't do _that._"

Peter was surprised at the outburst, "Pardon?"

Mrs. Beaver suddenly let our startled 'Ohs' and Lucy rushed over to her, "Oh, Mrs. Beaver, what ever is the matter?"

"The more there are to meet her, the more difficult it will be to convince her to come."

Edmund shook his head, _This won't work out right. We need the guards to ensure security._

Peter looked at Edmund, and in hushed tones spoke, "What do you think?"

Edmund voiced out his thoughts and added, "Then again, if we don't have the guards…"

"We can work without arousing any unwanted attention. It will be easier to move."

Edmund nodded, "That exactly."

Peter leaned back in his throne, "We'll plan this in a more private area. But rest assured, we'll meet her tonight," Peter addressed the Beavers alone, "I suggest you leave and begin trying to convince her. From the way you describe her, she won't be very easy about this."

**Author's Note:** It's quite long :) do forgive me. Please review if you've read this. So far, I hadn't received any reviews for the previous chapter. And if you're wondering about the Borovian 'Don't hurt them!' it's all made up, so it's not a real language. heheh.


	4. Chapter 3: Take to the Woods

**Author's Note: **I'm sorry this took so long, please forgive me (*Lucy-pout*)

**Chapter 3: Take to the Woods**

It was a great risk that the monarchs were taking, to be executing a plan that was hurriedly structured. After studying the map of Narnia for hours of the day, it was agreed that Edmund would be riding ahead to Owlwood, where the Beavers had mentioned their last hiding place with the princess. Edmund, though, would not make himself known once he arrived at the area, thus he would wait until he caught sight of the princess and her escort, Mr. Beaver. Susan (it was decided that Princess Eleanor would be most comfortable around another woman instead of a man) will meet the princess and take her on horseback to Cair Paravel, with Edmund following from behind unnoticed, and ensuring their security. Upon the last two miles to Cair Paravel, Edmund will ride off directly to the stables by use of the old trail. After that will be played by ear, for Peter and Lucy will have remained in the castle (by doing so will reduce the suspicion of the monarchs leaving the castle for unknown reasons,) waiting to welcome the princess.

Dusk couldn't come fast enough for Edmund. He couldn't make out the different feelings that ran through and within him. Some ideas presented themselves to the king: excitement, anxiety, and agitation. All together, such emotions caused him much discomfort. _If I were any more uncomfortable than at the moment, _he had thought to himself, _I'd probably be jumping off of the balcony of the Throne Room and onto the rocks lining the Great Eastern Ocean._

Finally, the moon had rose midway into the dark sky, signaling the first phase of the plan. Edmund had already saddled Philip, without Durmin's knowledge, for the mission was to remain secret, and both headed off quietly north of Narnia to Owlwood by the way of the Old Trail to escape notice.

In a bit over a quarter of an hour and at full gallop, Philip had taken his way on the trails of Owlwood and halted near the heart of the growth of the forest at Edmund's instruction.

"Where would you like to remain?" Philip snorted in an attempt to block off the early evening cold that wove its way through the land. Edmund looked up. The trees had blotted out most of the moonlight, as well as that of the stars, leaving him hardly any sufficient lighting good enough to see his map. The young king remained calm, however, thankful that he had reviewed the mission over and over again in his head that afternoon. With confidence, and after studying the trees around him, Edmund pointed to a tall Birch tree and said, "Passed the Birch, Peter had said. We should ride at an easy gait for another ten minutes and wait until the princess and Mr. Beaver appear on this trail."

Philip nodded and trotted off. After the said time of riding, Edmund turned Philip to face the trail and found it quite difficult to see passed the large growth of trunks. Edmund grumbled, "Aslan help me that I'll be able to see the princess passed this dense growth."

Philip nudged the king gently on his foot, "He will."

While all this has been taking place, walking on the path of Owlwood were two beings: one, a human, tall, cloaked in black and accompanied by a talking beast of Narnia.

"Beaver, wait."

Mr. Beaver turned and said gently, "Eleanor, we must keep moving. It's not safe here, and the queen will be there to meet you."

Eleanor knelt on the ground, her face hidden by the hood of her cloak, though she managed to take a golden chain of a necklace before her. Late in the morning, when the Beavers had mentioned what they had planned for her to ensure her safety, Eleanor was furious, but it soon dawned on her that arguing would be out of the question, for the monarchs had already promised they were going to find a way to take her safely from the woods to the castle. Still, the young princess could not make out why she had agreed so easily. And though she may not know it, the explanation was simple: she was tired of fighting, fighting for her life, and her safety, fighting her surroundings, and fighting her self. Over the years, all these ordeals had left her spirit exhausted.

"Please," Eleanor pleaded, "This is not the first time you are attempting to save my life. And though I do not remember how this necklace came to be in my possession, I remember that it is Narnian, and I wish to give it to you-"

"No, Eleanor," Mr. Beaver held his paws on Eleanor's folded hands and held them in place, "That necklace, I am sure, is in your possession for a reason," said he, "Now don't argue with me," he added as he saw Eleanor's lips part to speak, "Please, Eleanor. Treasure it, and let us be on our way."

The princess stood again and stared up at the looming trees above her. She swallowed as remnants of a terrible dream haunted her thoughts. _Trees, a whole forest of them seemingly just growing taller and taller and casting away the light, enveloping her and swallowing her into a dark oblivion, drowning her horrified screams and cries to the sky_. Eleanor, before she could remember any more, ran after Mr. Beaver and was unsure of how she felt about what was yet to come.

Edmund toyed with his sword occasionally unsheathing it and sheathing it again. He wasn't bored. He just knew he had to have his hands do _something_ before he lost his nerve waiting for the mission to truly take action. Philip had suggested, and had every reason to, that perhaps it was good that Edmund kept his hands busy, but why did he have to keep busy with a blade? Edmund had chuckled lightly at the remark but fell silent almost instantly, and found himself toying with the blade anyway. The skin at the back of Edmund's neck prickled, and the sensation continued its way down his spine. He shivered.

"Edmund?" Philip asked concerned. Edmund cleared his throat, "I'm all right, Philip. I just feel…funny." _What a poor word,_ Edmund thought to himself.

"You are nervous?"

"No. I get the feeling we're being watched, and I don't know why."

Philip whinnied softly, "Fear not, Edmund," said he, "We have done well so far, and Durmin and the other fauns noticed nothing."

Edmund smiled and reached out to scratch the stallion behind his ears when a horrible thought crossed his mind, _True. Durmin and the other stablehands had been unaware of our work, but what of another being _we_ are unaware of ourselves?_

Edmund angrily pushed the thought away and resumed unsheathing and sheathing his sword when Philip suddenly pricked his ears up and held his head high, "They're here," said the stallion, and Edmund felt Philip's hindquarters tense beneath him. The king nodded determinedly, "Stay quiet for the rest of the mission," he reminded and saw a dark cloaked figure run quietly down the trail. Sword at the ready Edmund rode behind, still hidden within the forest.

Susan breathed in deeply. She was just a mile behind the border of the woods, waiting for the princess. _What would she be like, I wonder, _thought the queen then she recalled the abstract pattern of the Borovian monarchy in Edmund's assigned book from Ortemius. She recalled seeing the young princess, so young and bright-faced. Would she be the same now? Perhaps not, having lived long years in fear, and maybe even anger towards the woods and Narnia itself. Thistleberry, the bay mare Susan rode, shifted her stance and nudged on Susan's foot, "I hear them coming, Susan."

Susan looked down the trail and at first saw nothing. Then, a few moments later Mr. Beaver scurried forward a few feet away and a cloaked figure followed quietly behind. Susan did her best to look through the trees surrounding the trail. She smiled. Edmund was so well concealed by the forest to the point that she failed to neither see nor hear him. Whilst waiting for the princess and Mr. Beaver to approach her, Susan leaned forward and whispered in the mare's ear, "Can you sense Edmund and Philip?"

Thistleberry pricked her ears one way and another and nodded her head, "Faintly. I smell only Birch and some Pine. I supposed they are well hidden behind the trees, but yes, I can sense them."

Susan nodded, "Thank the Lion."

At that moment Mr. Beaver had arrived at Thistleberry's forelegs and the cloaked figure stopped short behind him and curtsied lightly, "Your Majesty," came a soft voice. Susan nodded and said to the beaver, "Will you be on your way?"

"Aye. I'll see you in the morn. I'd best return to the dam where Mrs. Beaver will be waiting," Mr. Beaver took Eleanor's hand and the young woman lowered her hood. Susan smiled kindly as she saw the princess's face for the first time. Her hair, quite similar to the abstract pattern, was now a deep glossy auburn. And the gentle waves that fell around her shoulders were still there, just as Susan remembered from the pattern. Eleanor's eyes were iciest grey the queen had ever seen (though Susan dwelt no more in them, for Eleanor's eyes seemed to hold many an emotion, and perhaps even concealing a thousand more) and her face was pale from the cold. Susan held out her hand to her, "Behind me," she said, "I could not afford to take another horse, for we needed to reduce the suspicion of you coming here."

Eleanor nodded and allowed herself to be helped up on the saddle behind the queen. She looked behind her and noticed that Beaver had already gone silently away. Susan looked behind her, "Are you ready, princess?"

"Yes, Your Majesty," Eleanor replied. Thistleberry shook her mane in anticipation and cantered quickly towards Cair.

Edmund coughed hoarsely as the cold air rushed into his throat while following stealthily behind Susan. Philip, considering he was not on the smooth trail, cantered sure-footedly passed the trees with ease. Edmund saw Eleanor a few feet away only a few minutes ago. But he had only seen just a glimpse of her face before Susan had heaved her onto the saddle. Still, the king had no doubt it was the same girl from the pattern, for her hair was the deepest of auburn. Philip maintained a steady pace and observed a fair distance to hide within the trees. By now making out the sight of Susan and her steed, Thistleberry, as Edmund had heard the name, had become a little more difficult because both horses were now making haste through the forest to the borders. Edmund trusted Philip to watch his way most of the time so as to keep an eye on those he was meant to guard. The king and his stallion had galloped for about another mile when Susan disappeared beyond the borders. Edmund followed and was soon in full view on the open grassy plain. He reined Philip and aligned with Susan, still keeping at least twenty feet worth of distance. Edmund, forgetting the cold night air, spoke, "Philip, you know the instructions within the two mile sight of Cair, yes?"

"Well met, Edmund," Philip snorted, assuring the king. Edmund, if it were not for the sword in his hand, would have patted Philip pleasingly on his neck. Silently, they rode on.

"Queen Susan!" Eleanor stated in alarm, giving herself a mental kicking for sounding like a young deer afraid of the calm evening shadows. Susan jerked her head behind her, "What is it?"

"We are being pursued, Your Majesty."

Susan entrusted the way to Thistleberry and looked behind Eleanor to find Philip's brilliant chestnut silhouette under the moonlight, galloping steadily from twenty feet away. A snort and nod from Thistleberry validated her thoughts.

"It's no matter, Princess," Susan said, "That is only my brother, King Edmund. He is following us to secure our ride to Cair Paravel."

Eleanor couldn't help it as she felt a relieving smile play on her lips. _Beaver was right,_ she thought, _The monarchs had planned well._

Edmund saw the princess glance back at him during the ride, and soon Susan had taken a look too. Philip laughed under his breath as he continued galloping, "She has sighted us. Your sister must have assured the princess that we are their guards."

Edmund smiled unable to say anything (he had regretted speaking earlier, for his throat could never have felt more sore.) Soon enough Cair Paravel's large marble and stone structures appeared ahead and Edmund quickly estimated the two miles before him. Reining Philip to the right and to the direction of the Old Trail, he held up his sword to signal Susan.

Susan looked to the right and waved her hand once in reply. She was amazed at Edmund's skill on the saddle that even amidst a full gallop on the horse, he had managed to sheath his sword safely into its belt. _I suppose it comes with being a man, _she thought, _and having to handle a blade instead of a bow and arrows._

"Where is he headed, Your Majesty?" Eleanor asked questioningly.

"His job finishes here," Susan explained, "If we are to enter Cair Paravel's main gates we will do it on one horse just as I had left."

Eleanor nodded and thought that perhaps there was another entrance behind the great castle. She watched as the chestnut horse and its rider disappeared farther east of them, once more amazed at how well the plan had been built.

As Philip trotted down the Old Trail, Edmund found his breathing to have become heavy and difficult. Philip nickered a greeting and Edmund wondered why until he saw Peter walk from around the corner of the castle, "Ed?"

Edmund swallowed and nodded, "What are you doing here?"

Peter approached Philip, who by now had halted, and held the reins near the bit, "Meeting you. You look tired."

Edmund laughed and found that it was a painful deed, for his throat had become so much sorer than it had been last. Peter wore a worried expression on his face, "You need warm mead. I had some prepared for you and Susan if she wants any inside," the king smiled as he patted the stallion on his neck, "I hope you'll be happy with your oats. That's all I managed to do without making myself known to the stablehands."

Philip whinnied and said, "Thank you. Your gesture is appreciated."

Edmund grinned gratefully and dismounted. His legs had grown numb from his long ride in the cold. Peter laid a hand on his brother's back, "Susan and the princess?"

"Safe, thank the Lion," Edmund decided not to mention that he had felt as if he were being watched while waiting for the arrival of the princess in Owlwood. The last thing he and his siblings needed was his little brain still worried for the remaining survivors of the Witch's spies that still prowled the deepest areas of the Narnian forests. Edmund and Peter conversed about the ordeal as they walked Philip back to the stables.

Susan trotted through the main gates and was pleased to find that the guards had left to change shifts, "We arrived at just the right moment," the queen said to both of her companions. Thistleberry nickered, "So we have, or we will be facing the difficulty of explaining the presence of Princess Eleanor to the guard."

Eleanor shifted uneasily in the saddle as she heard Thistleberry for the first time. She knew that the Narnian beasts could speak, but she had never been so close to a Narnian before. She had spent most her time with the dryads and other trees of the Western Woods. Susan trotted around a trail and down the path to the stables when Thistleberry stopped short. Susan and Eleanor jerked in the saddle.

"What is it, Your Majesty?" Eleanor asked tensely. Susan awaited the mare's reply.

"I can hear something," was what the horse said. Susan grumbled, "The stablehands should be off by now."

Dismounting, Susan handed the reins to Eleanor, "Wait here until I come back, all right?"

"Yes, Queen Susan," Eleanor replied and wondered if she saw Susan smile at her politeness before she walked away. Eleanor set the matter aside as Thistleberry nudged her foot gently, "Little one, how fair thee?"

Eleanor hummed peacefully at the mare's kind tone, "Well met, Thistleberry."

Edmund was just finishing his story of his experience in the woods as Peter helped him unsaddle Philip and rub the horse down when they heard the soft crunch of footsteps approaching them. The brothers spun around. An excuse hastily formed in Edmund's head if he had to explain anything to a stablehand when he and Peter saw Susan walk from around the corner of the long line of stalls, "Oh," she whispered carefully so as not to awake the other horses, "I thought probably you'd be Durmin."

Edmund was unable to contain himself, "Did you leave the princess outside? Alone?"

Susan huffed, "She's not alone, Ed. I trust Thistleberry," Susan turned to leave after adding, "I'll call them in."

As Susan walked to the horse and rider she smiled, "It's nothing. My brothers are just giving Philip a rub down," Susan walked alongside Thistleberry. Eleanor took in a breath. She was going to meet two out of the remaining three monarchs she had not yet met.

Peter set down the large bucket of oats in one corner of Philip's stall, "There," he said, "Thank you for aiding us, Philip," Peter gave the stallion a pat on the neck as he walked out of the stall, latching it as he did. Edmund let out a sigh and was about to open his mouth when he heard motion behind him. Turning he saw Thistleberry's dark silhouette walk towards him and stop in front of her stall as Susan waited for the rider to dismount. Saying a few words to the princess, Susan began unsaddling her horse and the princess walked timidly towards the two kings. Peter bowed modestly, as did Edmund, and both began the exchange of greetings. Peter introduced himself first, "High King Peter, Your Highness. This is my brother."

Eleanor watched patiently as a young man, who appeared to be around her age, nodded his head and said, "King Edmund."

Eleanor, being very observant, noticed that King Edmund had more likeness with Queen Susan than High King Peter. Both had dark hair, though perhaps the queen's was much lighter, and the paleness of their skin was almost identical. That's where their relations ended, for King Edmund seemed to carry an air of calm authority so similar to the High King's, only he projected it rather differently. That would be one way a person could tell the two kings were siblings.

Eleanor nodded, "I am only Eleanor, Your Majesties."

Edmund took note of the tone in the princess's voice. She had said her introduction rather bluntly in his opinion. But there were other things that Edmund had taken note of, even before Eleanor had begun speaking. He noticed that she walked with the silence and grace similar to a dryad's. Mr. Beaver's words returned to Edmund's thoughts, _'She studied the way of the dryads and was therefore the stealth in the woods.'_ Eleanor's hair was much darker from what he remembered in the pattern. It was only her soft waves that seemed exactly the same. Edmund's eyes fell on the princess's grey ones. He caught them and almost at once had to avert his gaze. You would never imagine the emotions that pierced through the young king after he beheld Eleanor's icy stare. What he saw and felt was so great that it had plunged him into surefire confusion. Anger, hatred, melancholy, hopelessness coursed into Edmund's mind, and he found it rather uncomfortable. Yet, if those emotions were truly what he saw in those sliver eyes, then Edmund could not help but feel a sense of protection for the lady.

Susan's voice brought Edmund out of his trance, "So you've met my brothers," she smiled kindly at Eleanor and laid a gentle hand on Edmund's shoulder, "Our guard -- a job well done, Ed."

Edmund smiled modestly, "Thanks."

"And the one responsible for most of the plan's structures – many thanks," Susan looked at her older brother, and Peter smiled, "Well met, Su."

"Now," Susan said and turned her attention to Eleanor, "You needn't call us 'Lords and Ladies' or _they,_ my brothers 'Sires.' Nor will you have to call any of us your kings or queens or majesties," Susan added with a grin, "We simply cannot get used to it."

Whatever that meant. Most people of importance would have found the queen's speech unusual, but Eleanor, being uneducated of common royal courtesies only smiled politely and said, "Then what shall it be?"

"Our names," Susan said, grateful that the princess made no objection, "I am Susan, and here are Peter and Edmund."

The brothers smiled kindly – though Edmund, more nervously, and bowed.

"And what shall we call you, Princess?" Peter asked kindly. Eleanor cringed under the address and nearly made a rude remark when instead, upon careful examination of her words, said, "Peter, I am princess-of-none. Eleanor will do."

Edmund was struck by the words, _To be stripped off of one's kingdom, people and family,_ he thought as he shivered lightly, _Would have taken this much out of me as well._

Peter nodded, his smile unwavering as an attempt to keep the air loose and friendly, "Eleanor it is. Shall we make for the castle? Lucy, our younger sister, will be worried."

Eleanor, even though she knew not of the regular customs of royalty, knew this much: how did it come that four kings and queens ruled an entire empire all at once? There was a prophecy that the dryads and beavers had conveyed to her years ago. It was about two sons of Adam, and two other daughters of Eve will come to Narnia and restore peace to put an end to the long winter. Eleanor was not sure if it was wise to hope on such a ridiculous belief but seeing now as the prophecy came true changed her mindset. Still, _all _four monarchs at once? She did not press the matter, however, and decided to follow the three siblings to Cair.

Faun guards had opened the main doors of Cair Paravel for the monarchs and their evening guest. If ever the guards had been surprised to see Eleanor so suddenly, they did an excellent job concealing their thoughts and instead greeted everyone a hearty good evening. As Eleanor stepped into the castle with the three royals she looked around the main hall, a vast room situated at the first floor, which served as the main entrance hall for all guests. It would have taken her breath away if she had seen this when she was still a young child, but by now Eleanor had somehow lost the bit in her that actually enjoyed things. She looked around slowly and her eyes took in the beautiful scarlet and gold tapestries by the tall glass windows framed by deep mahogany, the ascending carpeted staircases that led to other floors of the castle, and great marble pillars that held the entire magnificent structure upright. Everything was so elegant in an amusingly simple way. Flowers in tall porcelain vases stood in almost every corner of the main hall, permeating the air with their sweet fragrance. Eleanor felt terrible. She couldn't seem to bring herself to enjoy such beauty. Was it because she knew, that somehow, she had once a castle of her own just as beautiful as this, and maybe even more and she had shared it with a family of hers that used to exist? Eleanor swallowed hard to fight the tears that threatened to stream down her pale cheeks. How had she forgotten so much of her past? How had her mind grown to become so twisted and confused, too able to fight back the dark memories enough to forget them?

None seem to notice her discomfort. At least she hoped.

Edmund walked silently while Susan and Peter conversed among themselves about the mission. He longed to clear his aching throat but was too afraid that he'd make too much noise and it would hurt like everything. Then Edmund noticed that the air between he and the princess was terribly choked, for while Peter and Susan were left to talk among themselves, he and Eleanor held back and walked side by side a few feet away; to make matters worse, Edmund was never really a good conversationalist. He marveled at how easily his elder siblings could do it. The young king stole a glance at the princess and watched her as she took in her surroundings. What he saw certainly was not what he expected. Eleanor looked as if she wanted to run away. The color of her skin was still as pale as ever, maybe even paler.

_I hope she isn't ill,_ Edmund thought and continued to watch the princess. Her grey eyes, he felt, looked as if they used to glisten brightly and dance only to find that the twinkle on those eyes must have died down and ebbed away years ago. Edmund thought that it wasn't fair to have such beautiful jewels lose their luster just that way. But then again, to think that Eleanor's eyes had seen those dark times while so young, and maybe even relived each moment in her dreams, then perhaps her vision in and out would certainly have darkened the way they were now. At the present, all Edmund could see was an icy gaze with no emotion except mainly of those of sadness and fear. Who knew what else was hidden behind them?

Finally the group had arrived in front of great double doors. Peter held one door ajar as Susan led in Eleanor and Edmund. Peter followed shortly after closing the door behind him. Eleanor looked around the homey yet richly furnished room. As with the other rooms of Cair Paravel, Narnian embroidered tapestries hung from the corners of the rooms behind flower vases. The curtains though were not red. They were white with streams of light gray silk, clean and smelling of fresh pine. In one corner of the room was a great fireplace wherein burned a small but comfortably warm fire. Eleanor noticed the Narnian coat-of-arms hanging just above the frame. She followed the monarchs to a set of couches where waited a young girl, perhaps a year or so younger than Eleanor, holding some sort of flask with red liquid (which she quickly put away after what she seemed to have conducted a brief examination of Eleanor) and standing to meet them.

"Lucy," Peter said and gestured to Eleanor. Remembering that she had no desire to be addressed as _Princess,_ Peter gave Lucy a look, which the younger sister quickly understood, "Welcome to Cair Paravel, Your Highness," Lucy smiled as she ran over and stood before the Borovian. Eleanor would have been put ill at ease to have been addressed so by a girl younger than herself but Lucy's welcoming smile and easy gestures gave Eleanor courage to speak softly, "Please, Your--"

Susan cleared her throat. Eleanor continued, "Lucy. Do call me Eleanor. I have no desire to be addressed in any other way," Eleanor mustered a hesitant smile, which Lucy minded not and said graciously, "Very well," said the queen, "Now come, all of you. Sit and tell me everything," Lucy led everyone to the couches and waved her hand over a knee-high table, "Tea and cakes," said she, so friendly that Eleanor felt a little more comfortable. Lucy and Susan insisted that she had something to eat, for she looked deathly pale. Eleanor thankfully conceded. Lucy smiled thoughtfully and looked at her brother Edmund to inquire but he appeared as if he was hiding something, and what ever it was seemed to be paining him, "Edmund? Are you all right?" she asked in a gentle tone. Edmund opened his mouth to speak but instead found himself in a fit of coughs. Peter jerked in his seat, "By the Lion," he exclaimed and made for the door, "I'll go get some mead, Ed. Rest yourself."

Edmund would've argued that he'd go get it himself but seeing as that might make Peter only insist he smiled gratefully instead. Lucy trotted to him and gave her temporarily mute brother a hug, "Oh, Edmund!" she scolded playfully, "Did you not bring a cloak?"

Edmund smiled and whispered hoarsely, "I did."

Eleanor bit her lower lip. The beavers said that she was the youngest in her family with two older siblings named Ludwig and Mathilda. As Eleanor watched Lucy pour out loving affection for her brother, Eleanor couldn't help but wonder if she had ever been the same with Ludwig. Forcing the thought from her mind, she decided to thank Edmund properly for his role in the evening mission, just as she had thanked Susan. She looked at the young king and said, "Thank you, Edmund, for keeping guard over our ride to Cair Paravel."

Edmund was slightly taken aback by the address and he caught Eleanor's grey stare again. The smile on her face never reached her eyes. Susan spoke, "We were all willing to take you here, Eleanor," said she gently and Eleanor looked to the queen as she continued speaking, "We promise you a home and friendship here at Cair Paravel."

Lucy smiled, "Absolutely," she added. In silence they all sat, contemplating on their thoughts and listening to the quiet flames that crackled in the fireplace. Lucy looked at her two siblings, who both seemed to be cast deep into their own thoughts, then to the princess, who looked as if she were caught up in a battle in her own world.

_A broken spirit, poor girl, _Lucy thought as she watched Eleanor set her eyes low and staring at the carpet, fumbling with her hands and gripping her cloak (which she had the good manners to have folded the moment she stepped into Cair Paravel.) Lucy let out a soft sigh and decided to see if she could somehow look passed the princess, beginning with her present air. It felt so restrained around her, as if there were thick invisible stone barriers protecting her from anyone who wished to reach her. Lucy knew that, from experience with Edmund when he was still bitter towards she and Peter and Susan, breaking through such barriers would be a difficult task, for such structures were purposefully built by the person as if to cast a fortress around himself hoping that the world will never find him or reach him, also that he will never reveal who he really was. It was said that building such a structure so great made one strong, but Lucy knew that it was a lie. People who did such things were actually deeply wounded inside, and the longer they kept within their barriers, the more difficult it will be for others to break in to them, and even more for them to break out to others. Lucy felt a pang of sympathy for Eleanor, imagining that if she were in her place, she would fair no better, for the young queen could not imagine life without Mother, Father, Peter, Edmund, and Susan. No. She'd much rather die than lose all of them, and the fact that Eleanor still seemed to be alive—'barely'— and suffering the losses of her family and people was something for Lucy. _I want to help her,_ thought the young girl as she watched Eleanor sag back in her seat, _But I may not be quite the right person to do it._ Once again the door opened and Peter entered carrying in his hand a goblet of mead. He handed it to Edmund and said apologetically, "Very sorry that slipped my mind, Ed. Drink at once so your throat can be relieved."

Edmund had no argument to that and drank the warm, sweet liquid as it soothingly passed down his throat and, after a few hearty sips, felt much better and spoke normally, "Thanks, Pete," he said and smiled contentedly and turned to Eleanor, "And I meant to say that you're most welcome, Eleanor."

Eleanor looked at Edmund. Hearing his true voice for the first time was a little strange, for she had heard everyone else's. The princess nodded weakly and looked to the fireplace, watching the flames dance within. Edmund spoke again, softly and carefully, "Is everything all right, Lady?"

Eleanor looked at him, her expression never softened and Edmund flinched slightly, "Indeed," said the princess and stared at her hands, "Does anyone else know of my coming here?"

Susan hesitated for a moment but decided upon answering honestly, "None but we and the Beavers," she added, "And of course, the horses Philip and Thistleberry. Why do you ask, pray tell?"

Eleanor shook her head and let out a choked smirk which she hadn't intended, "Make of it what you will but I do not want so many people to know who I am."

Peter swallowed, "People believe that you are-" before the High King could think of the proper word Eleanor nodded, "Dead. I am aware." Sitting stiffly in her seat Eleanor said, "Still," Eleanor kept her gaze at the monarchs, "Please speak nothing of my identity."

Eleanor hated appearing vulnerable in front of anyone like at the moment. She set her jaw until finally, Peter spoke, "Well met, Eleanor. If anyone shall ask, we will all but say that you are a guest."

Eleanor bowed her head, "I pray thee well," said she, relief running richly in her voice. Lucy nodded, "Well then," said she, "Eleanor looks exhausted, as the lot of you," she stood and gave a look to each of her siblings. They understood what she was up to. Lucy smiled at Eleanor, "It's late. Come, and I shall personally take you to your quarters."

Eleanor conveyed her thanks and bid the rest of the monarchs good night. Afterwards, Lucy had already led her out of the room.

"In here, Eleanor," Lucy said warmly and took a key from within the folds of her dress as she unlocked one of the guest quarters. She opened the door and beckoned the princess to go in ahead of her. Eleanor entered and instantly found that the room was already prepared. A small fire crackled in its place on the far right of the room. The four-poster bed that stood before her had nightclothes laid out on the fresh sheets. To the left of the room Eleanor made out a charming arrangement of a dressing screen, a vanity and wash area. But what caught her eye were two large doors that led out to a balcony overlooking the Narnian fields. The doors were left a little ajar to allow some cool night air. The curtains fluttered gently in the weak wind. Lucy smiled, "You approve?"

Eleanor looked behind her and returned gratefully, "A charming room, Lucy. Very charming."

"Good," said the queen and walked Eleanor to a closet. Eleanor had to restrain from reaching out and fingering the intricate Narnian carvings of dryads and flowers on the mahogany. Lucy opened the closet and Eleanor could not contain her surprise to see it already fitted with a few good articles of clothing. There was a riding dress and cloak for, as Lucy mentioned, if ever Eleanor saw it fit to ride. Aside from that were two petticoats, some undergarments and three pairs of shoes. The first pair, as it obviously looked, was riding boots that could lace above the ankles. The second pair was made of soft leather, for casual occasions and regular strolls outside. Eleanor soon found that it was to match with three informal gowns that hung aside the riding dress. But the last pair, Eleanor was surprised to see, had low heels that were stitched elegantly with beads. They were to match with a beautiful ball gown for the most formal occasions. _What else have the monarchs thought of?_ Eleanor thought, clearly surprised, "Lucy," said she, nearly lost for words, "How can I ever thank you and your siblings enough?"

Lucy smiled and clapped delightedly, "No matter. This isn't even half of your wardrobe. The dryads, your dear friends, always made my clothes along with Susan's, Peter's and Edmund's. They said they would more than gladly do it for someone such as you."

Eleanor again fought back bitter tears. The dryads truly were her dear friends. Perhaps, even, the only true friends she ever had next to the Beavers. Lucy held her arm, "Eleanor," she said gently. Lucy's dark eyes said but one message, _You have wept long enough. Allow me to console you._

Eleanor suddenly felt a sudden blaze of anger within her. How she _hated_ weeping, showing her decrease in strength. The princess put on her best posture and smiled at Lucy, "Friend," said she, "Worry not."

Lucy nodded, "I suppose you're tired," she added, "Know that you are on the side of the guest quarters. We, my siblings and I, are on the other side. Not so much of a walk, so if you need anything," Lucy smiled. She also walked Eleanor to the bedside where there was a silver bell with a chain attached and hanging under it, "For the servants," said the queen. Eleanor nodded and said, "I thank you for your kindness, Lucy. I thank you for a thousand leagues."

Lucy smiled, "You are most welcome. I shall now leave you to rest." Lucy walked to the door and opened it, ready to leave, "Sleep well, Lady," said she and closed the door.

Eleanor watched as Lucy left the room. Then, she was alone. How terrible it was to feel alone. Eleanor walked to the mirror in the vanity and saw her reflection: auburn hair, winded and in knots, cheeks coloring slowly as she warmed up, eyes looking tired and longing for rest, even though Eleanor never quite had a good rest because of her strange dreams; she always found herself waking in the middle of the night, heart pounding in her chest, sweat dripping from her brow. Eleanor looked down at her chest and saw the Narnian necklace resting against the skin below her collarbone. She held it before her and looked at the mirror. Fingering the gold engravings of a lion, said to be a representative of Aslan, Eleanor's eyes filled with tears. _Why can't I remember who gave this to me?_ She thought bitterly at herself and walked away from the mirror and wiped her tears with a part of her cloak. She sat on the edge of the bed and her mind remained blank, as if it were taking its time choosing something to think about. It was then that an image of King Edmund appeared in Eleanor's head. She thought of the sound of his voice, deep, gentle, reassuring and kind; and the expression on his face when she first caught him watching her. His eyes, dark and expressive, showed some sort of sympathy and concern. Eleanor grunted at the thought. She didn't need any of that, she thought. She was all right by herself. Eleanor walked across the room and laid a hand gently on the doors that led to her balcony. It opened with ease, the hinges hardly making a sound. Quietly, Eleanor walked onto the terrace and hugged herself as the wind picked up and whispered in her ear. The princess rested her elbows on the railings and looked above. She could see the silhouettes of griffins flying gracefully through the night sky. They made no sound as they swooped around the castle. It took only a moment for Eleanor to realize they were guards. Then Eleanor looked below and saw that she could see the courtyard. It looked so quiet and peaceful. She saw the ground of the courtyard was slightly beige. _Perhaps it is a special kind of sand,_ thought the princess. She sighed and let her thoughts swim, not minding the image of the just king that lingered at the back of her head.

Lucy rushed back into the receiving room where Peter, Edmund, and Susan waited patiently for her. Closing the door she walked to her siblings and said, "She's resting now, I hope."

Susan nodded, "The poor dear looked exhausted."

Edmund spoke quietly, "Well, if you've lived life her way in the woods, you'd think time would do those things to you."

Peter hummed in agreement, "Truth be told," said he, "Now, Lu. What was it you wished to speak of?"

"From the way she seems to me," Lucy said worriedly and sat beside Susan on the couch that faced Edmund and Peter, "The princess looks as if she has wounds."

Edmund took this literally, "Pardon?"

Lucy smiled weakly, "Not the wounds you think, Edmund. I mean wounds of the heart. Wounds so deep and painful that over time they have grown numb, only for us to find out they may be incapable of being healed."

The words hit Edmund like a hard angry slap on the face. Peter and Susan seemed to feel the same way. Lucy continued sadly, "She just seems so broken to me."

"But," Susan began, "She seems so reserved. I was beginning to wonder if she even wants to be here."

Peter shrugged, "Remember what Mr. Beaver said?" he recalled, "Her trust is hard to win. It may take some time before she opens her doors."

Edmund had kept quiet for some time now and finally said, "I was thinking…"

Peter nodded, "Do say."

"Should Ortemius know about this?"

Lucy shifted uneasily, "I don't think we should make any rash decisions, Ed," she said gently. Susan gestured with her hands, "But the Teacher, and no doubt the entire Council, knows of Borovia so well."

"As do Archenland, Galma, and those other countries," Peter pointed out, "I'm with Lucy on this one. The Beavers had nearly made a misstep of a decision to take her to Cair Paravel without confiding with her first. What more if we reveal her identity without her even trusting us?"

Edmund nodded, "Well put," he said and suddenly felt sick. _Today certainly had been a full one,_ he thought. He awoke from a nightmare and lacked a good deal of sleep. He had ridden out in the cold in order to ensure the princess's safety along with that of Susan's, and Lucy mentions wisely that there are more hardships ahead. Edmund stifled a yawn and Susan stood and walked over to him, "We're all tired," she said, "I think it would be best to talk to the Beavers tomorrow. After all, they promised to be here by morning."

Susan laid a gentle kiss in Edmund's hair to bid him quiet good night and did the same for Peter and Lucy. She took the tea tray from the table to take outside, calling a wish for sweet dreams over her shoulder as her siblings replied accordingly. Lucy hugged Peter and bid him good night and trotted out of the room. Edmund and Peter were left on the couch watching the fire begin to die down. Peter patted Edmund's knee, "You all right, Ed?"

Edmund smiled, "I'm fine. Just a bit nostalgic."

Peter nodded, "Best get some sleep then," he said, "You go on ahead. I'll put out the fire."  
Edmund conceded as he bid his older brother good night and walked out the room.

Peter watched after the younger brother as he walked to the fireplace and leaned against the frame with a supporting arm. His fingers brushed lightly against the coat-of-arms and he looked up to see the silhouette of the Lion as the main emblem. He sighed, _Aslan, guide us,_ Peter looked back at the flames, _Let us be an aid to the last Borovian in the Narnian Empire._

**Author's Note:** So there it goes. Please review! I love hearing your opinions, especially since this is the first encounter with Eleanor, Princess of Borovia – or as she says: Princess-of-None. Pretty please? :) By the way, the prologue is written differently now. Same sequence of events, though :)


	5. Chapter 4: Bloodline

**Author's Note: First, I would like to apologize that this chapter took so long to put up. It was a real challenge to write, maybe because of the events that happen all at the same time and I don't know which one to write first and all that stuff :) Anyhoo, thanks for all your reviews. I look forward to many more and I hope you all enjoy this chapter.**

**Chapter 4: Bloodline**

"_King Edmund of Nothing…"_

_Edmund whirled around. He stood in the middle of a forest, where trees stood tall and their branches stretched endlessly overhead. They loomed above him, towering over him, taunting him to fear them. It was dark and deathly quiet, save for that one voice, cold and wicked speaking his name, "King Edmund of Nothing…" it said again. Edmund's breathing hastened and beads of sweat formed on his brow. He ran down the trail, that single trail that appeared beneath his feet. Fog limited his vision only to a few feet. Edmund ran on and then felt his foot catch onto something like a stump. He fell heavily on his side and made out a long and thick tree root by his feet. Looking up, Edmund felt a shiver creep up his spine. _The Birch,_ he thought, remembering the landmark in the Owlwood where he awaited Eleanor._

"_Novérra hégrilovwen!"_

_Edmund scrambled to his feet hearing those words. Terror gripped him like iron clamps of a prison cell. He heard it again, accompanied by a heart-gripping sob, "Novérra hégrilovwen!"_

Eleanor,_ was Edmund's first thought. He listened for the cries that rang in his ears. How he wished for it to stop. Edmund ran passed the birch tree and off of the trail, making his way through bushes and low branches and hanging vines, all of them clawing at him, eager to get hold of him. He could feel his breathing becoming heavy and short. _

"_Novérra hégrilovwen!" _

_Edmund winced. It sounded so hurt._

"_Novérra hégrilovwen!" A sharp and anguished scream followed and Edmund suddenly slid down a slope. Looking up his breath caught in his throat. Eleanor knelt before him several feet away. She gripped herself and bent over as if she were in unbearable pain. Her auburn hair strewn over her face as she let out strained cries and choked sobs. Edmund wanted to run to her, to hold her, to let her know he was there, but his feet refused to take him to her. He was frozen, unable to move. Edmund felt a sting in his eyes and tears began to slowly form. _What's going on?_ he thought frantically as he watched Eleanor continue to cry. He opened his mouth and a weak sob escaped his lips followed by streaming tears down his cheeks, _No,_ he thought, _No, not now!_ Edmund watched helplessly as Eleanor screamed once more at the trees above her, "Novérra hégrilovwen! Novérra hégrilovwen!"_

Stop crying,_ he tried to say, _Please stop crying. Look here. I'm right here!_ Desperate. He was so desperate._

"_See, King Edmund."_

_Edmund choked and whirled around, searching for the source of that cold voice._

"_See how people suffer for their crimes. But no matter…"_

_Edmund held his breath._

"_You're next."_

"_No!" Edmund managed to retort. He then realized that he couldn't hear Eleanor's sobs behind him anymore. He looked back and found her staring wildly around her, fear etched clearly on her features, face pale, eyes wild. Edmund took one step forward and Eleanor finally stood up and let out one last sob. Hiding her face in her hands she ran away, deep into the woods. Edmund hurriedly followed and watched Eleanor scramble up a slope and disappear down a trail. The young king tried to climb after but the slope seemed too slippery and too high for him. Despondent, Edmund tried to grab onto the loose soil but found them to be like small sharp stones that disallowed him to take hold. Edmund did the only thing he could to try and bring her back._

"_Eleanor!" he yelled. _

Edmund instantly sat up in bed; tears stained his freckled cheeks. The king gasped and wiped his sweaty face on his sleeve. He could still hear her screams. Her voice, the distinct sound of pain and sorrow as she cried pitifully to the emptiness of her surroundings. He could still see her face, and smell the scent of the birch. Edmund looked around his quarters and out his balcony doors. _Another dream,_ he thought, still gasping and making efforts to calm his heart. It was a peaceful night outside. Queer.

"Oh, Aslan," he muttered tiredly, "What do you want me to do?"

Edmund sat himself on the edge of his bed, running a hand through his hair, "This really is madness."

Edmund looked out again to his balcony, his mind drifting off as the shadow of a griffin flew past.

Deep in the Owlwood, however are some of the much-hated inhabitants: the Followers, those of Jadis's remaining survivors of her army, have held council here at the dead of night ever since the hag Kvraísta claimed she had sighted the signs of the stars.

"He should be here by now!" she growled, her frail and raspy voice overflowing with impatience, "I say, even if those wolves were reliable in the past, it doesn't mean they are the same at the present."

If one could meet a hag, or any of the Followers for that matter, he would be fortunate to live to tell the tale. Kvraísta and the other hags were the most loyal of the Followers. They watched the stars, in hopes that some day their dark reign shall return, and their great leader, Jadis, White Witch, and supposed Empress of Narnia and the Lone Islands, will rise again to finally claim the country as her own.

"Hush, Kvraísta," said a Follower, the were-wolf Brömsborum with hard brown fur, beady black eyes, a dreadful pointed snout and sharp teeth pungent with blood, sniffed the air, differentiating the scent of pine from all else, "Thrövgrím was part of the Secret Police. He knows what he's doing."

Kvraísta hissed, "We should have just let the boggles do the job. They are much faster as they fly." The boggles were terrible goblin-like creatures. Their arms grew membranous bat wings with their thin finger-like black claws for tearing their kill apart. The hag slithered her way over to a large decaying bark and sharpened her claws against it, shearing out chips of wood that fell lightly to the earth beneath her feet. Brömsborum snorted and flashed his eyes, "You know that they have a tendency to forget their stealth because they are free of the Witch. The Narnian griffins will have sighted them." Just then a group of wolf-like growls sounded in the short distance and a smooth male voice followed, "Wise words, were-wolf."

Brömsborum growled back, bearing his teeth, "Still, you did take longer than you promised."

Thrövgrim and his companions appeared from behind the trees and paced on the trail. They shot their golden and blue eyes at the were-wolf, faces fixed in scowls. Thrövgrim snarled, "Did you want us to be caught?"

"You were part of the Secret Police. Have you forgotten your stealthy ways as wolves?" Brömsborum challenged. The wolves snapped at him but kept their ground waiting for their leader to give the instruction. It never came. Instead, Thrövgrim shrugged and fixed his eyes on the hag, "We have what you seek. That _boy_ was no boy at all. He was a young man, the King Edmund himself. They were awaiting the girl."

Kvraísta laughed hoarsely, "See, now. Our mission has begun. Who will summon The Spellcaster?"

Thövgrim growled, "Fool. No one can summon him unless he knows of what is happening."

"He is smarter than us all. I'm sure he knows," the hag replied eerily. Thrövgrim narrowed his eyes, "He's grown old and fat."

"Have not you as well?"

The wolves barked menacingly at the retort but the hag appeared unnerved and continued digging her claws into the bark. Brömsborum snapped, "Enough," he added, clearly irritated at the course of the conversation, "Hag, you have what we need as the caller. Has it spoken?"

Kvraísta paused and stared at the bark for a moment, contemplating over how she was to reply. Everyone was silent when she finally turned to face them, and made her way to a higher level on the uneven earth. She held up her thin claws in the air, gesturing as she spoke, "Nay, it has not yet awaken," said she, "But I have watched the constellations. It is not yet time, but it is near. It is not yet near, but it is time. The fire burns, and yet it dies."

Thrövgrim growled, "Enough of your riddles, hag! What is it you wish to say?"

Kvraísta hissed, "We will only know until The Spellcaster comes to us and awakens the caller for us."

Brömsborum growled loudly, "How sure are we that he knows what is happening?"

"The Spellcaster is a loyal Follower, as are we all. If we know, so should he, unless he has turned against us, then we spill his blood before he spills ours."

The wolves laughed darkly as Thrövgrim voiced his sentiments, "As the Narnians say it, 'with a good will.'"

Eleanor jerked awake and her eyes flew open. She felt her breath some in quick and short gasps. _Another dream,_ she thought tiredly. She remembered it clearly, how she ran through the woods, desperate for an escape as the trees began to close in on her, taunting her, rustling their leaves. Eleanor bit her lip and ran a hand over her damp face. She furrowed her brow thoughtfully while she tried to remember her surroundings. _I'm in Cair Paravel._

The princess slowly sat up and looked around. Warm morning sunlight poured into the quarters, giving it a nice and friendly glow. Eleanor took a deep breath, smelling the scent of fresh Pine that calmed her nerves. She looked around her room and marveled at its beauty. There were many Narnian designed furniture, quite similar to what she remembered from the Beavers' dam, only more regal and very fitting for a grand castle. The sheets of her bed were the softest cotton and velvet, making it a pleasure to the touch. Eleanor felt a weak smile grace her lips when she heard soft humming in the background. Instinctively, Eleanor began to glance around and found that the door leading to the bath was slightly ajar. She could also hear running water. A few moments passed by when a maidservant, a Naiad with the fairest skin and deep blue hair blessed with dew drops, came out carrying in her arms a wash basket. Her eyes lit up, "Oh!"

Eleanor was unsure of how to react and decided upon giving the maid a smile, "Good morning," said she. The maidservant set the basket down and curtsied. Her voice was pleasant and smooth, "And a very good morning it is too, your Ladyship," she said, "I am Svéda-Loyal Servant of the Four, Naiad of the River."

"I am Eleanor," the princess replied.

"The lady has a beautiful name," Svéda said with bright watery eyes as she walked across the room to the study table, on which lay a tray of food, "I was just drawing your bath, and will be done shortly. In the meantime, do eat. You look so thin if I do say so myself."

Svéda's easy manner made Eleanor comfortable around her. She listened as the naiad continued chattering, "And Queen Susan said that you best be left to sleep on until you wake yourself. Don't worry, Lady, it is not too late into the morning. Might I say it's quite early."

Svéda carefully placed the tray on the bed. Eleanor's eyes widened. She had never seen so much food on one platter in her life. There was buttered toast and all kinds of other jams. There was a simple assortment of sweet fruits of cherries and apples and berries. Then there was what seemed to be a nice bowl of vegetable soup.  
"This looks delightful," Eleanor said and looked up at the maid, "Thank you."

Svéda clapped her hands, pleased with the compliment as she sat herself at the foot of the bed, where Eleanor found that she seemed quite happy to be, "Let's see now," Svéda mumbled, her eyes distant and thoughtful. Eleanor watched her for a moment while she chewed on her toast. The naiad jumped to her feet, "Ah, I just remembered!" she exclaimed, "Eat, my mistress. I will be back shortly."

Svéda picked up her thick skirts and trotted out of the room, leaving a slightly confused Eleanor to eat her breakfast and ponder over her thoughts.

"No!" Mr. Beaver said for nearly the fifteenth time that morning. He, Mrs. Beaver and the Pevensies have been in session in the Throne Room for almost an hour while Eleanor was still asleep. They were talking over various reasons of why Ortemius and the Council should or should not know about Eleanor's true identity and origins. Susan sighed, "But they are bound to find out somehow," she pointed out for nearly the fifteenth time as well. Edmund had watched the session go on quietly and hardly said anything to interrupt. His brow though had remained in a fixed furrow for the entire duration of the meeting. Finally Lucy spoke, "True. We cannot lie for a lifetime."

Mr. Beaver's mouth was left agape. Mrs. Beaver managed to find her voice however, "But there are still some of the Followers out there. Who knows who we are to trust with such details?"

Peter raised his eyebrows, "Are you implying that the Council of Cair Paravel is not to be trusted?"  
"I am saying that we don't know who to trust."

Susan interrupted again, "But they are old and very wise residents of Narnia."

"Which is why we can't trust them so much."

All heads turned to the speaker. It was Edmund, "They are old residents of Narnia. How do we know that none of them had had close ties with the Witch in the past?"

Peter sighed, "Ed," he began, "Don't you think that would be a bit too coincidental?"

Edmund shrugged, "I turned against you only a few years ago."

"Out of the question. You're not a Follower."

"Stop it, you two," Lucy said gently, "I suppose Edmund has a point. We haven't even met the entire Council. If we are to tell Ortemius, then it is sure to reach their ears."

Susan leaned back in her chair and heaved a sigh, "Bother the situation," she muttered. Mrs. Beaver shook her head, "Now, now…"

Peter nodded, "Very well. Rest assured that this conversation will not leave this room, and that our original agreement of secrecy will stand firm until it is time."

A look of relief passed over the snouts of the Beavers as they let out their breaths. Just then, the Throne Room's main doors opened and a Faun guard came in, closing the door behind him. He walked over, hooves clopping lightly as he did, and bowed before the thrones, "Your Majesties," he greeted, "Naiad Svéda awaits your audience."

Peter nodded, "Thank you. Send her in."

"Sire."

Peter turned his attention back to the Beavers, "I suppose this ends our meeting. Be on your way, for I know that you must have many things to attend to. Thank you for your time."

Mr. Beaver nodded, "And yours."

As the Beavers quietly made their way out of the room, Svéda entered and strode smoothly forward, stopping only to curtsy, and said with a smile, "The Lady has awaken. Would you like to see her soon?"

Susan smiled and shook her head, "Let her at her own pace. We will be right here."

"With a good will, my queen. Is there anything else you wish?"

"None," Lucy said, "Go on your way."

Svéda curtsied a second time and walked off, humming as she did. Lucy smiled and turned to her siblings, "Are we not lucky that Svéda is with us? I'm sure her cheerful nature will put Eleanor in good spirits."

"Slowly," Susan agreed and looked at her brothers, "We have lessons today, alright?"

Edmund groaned and Peter laughed at him, "I suppose that means no sparring for us until it's over, Ed."

Edmund smirked and leaned back in his throne. Peter shook his head, "Those circles under your eyes seemed to have gotten a bit more defined."

Edmund shrugged, "I'm fine. Just couldn't sleep well."

Lucy looked doubtful, "Come, Ed. Tell us if there's anything bothering you."  
Edmund smiled and looked at his younger sister, "I'm all right, Lu."

"Well, then," Susan said, attempting to change the course of the conversation, "This will be Eleanor's first day in the castle," but added worriedly "Though I believe today is also the day when we have much to do."

So the monarchs decided on talking about their plans for the day, seeing who had the most flexible schedule. Peter was almost instantly ruled out, for he had several meetings with the generals for the duration of the day. Edmund was also too busy. He was to see to the patrols and meet with several head guards, not to mention he had to accompany Peter for two other councils. Lucy had to go about her monthly medical unit checks. Ever since Father Christmas had given her the gift of the Fireflower cordial, her siblings had also found out that she had special hands for medicine. Susan however, being the most organized of the siblings, had already advanced her work, save for the armory check, and therefore it was decided that she would have the most flexible schedule for the day, "Suppose I shall already take Eleanor with me when she comes. That way she'll already see the Armory while I do my rounds. I won't take very long."

Peter agreed, "Excellent idea," he said, "I suppose you can acquaint her with Cair as much as time would allow after that."

"There now, mistress," Svéda declared happily as she brushed the last of Eleanor's auburn locks and tied them neatly with ribbon behind her head, "Ready for a day in Narnia!"

Eleanor eyed the maid thankfully, "Thank you, Svéda," she said softly. She and the naiad had gotten her ready to meet the monarchs, which Svéda appeared to have particularly enjoyed. She had fit the princess into a comfortable deep red cotton gown with complicated floral embroidery that traced the neckline and laced at the back over a warm grey under dress. Eleanor found herself amused at how _Narnian_ the design was, with its elegantly flowing skirt, sleeves that let loose until they tightened near the wrist, and of course the beautiful yet simple embroidery. Lastly, Eleanor wore the necklace around her neck. Svéda nodded in approval, "Come now. They await you in the Throne Room."

Eleanor nodded and stood up from the chair and followed the maid outside her quarters.

The four siblings continued to chat gaily as they waited for the princess. Lucy loved it when she shared moments like this with her siblings. Peter would forget his kingly duties and return to being the big brother he really was. Susan would step down from her elegant posture and bend in fits of laughter at Edmund's humor. Edmund would come out of his usual quiet manner and begin joking around and making his siblings laugh. And Lucy, well, Lucy was just Lucy, enjoying the company of her siblings every time she had the chance. Then the Throne Room door once more opened and entered a Faun Guard who bowed. He smiled when he noticed the kings and queens in the middle of laughter, "Lady Eleanor, and Naiad Svéda."

Peter said with a grin, "Send them in."

"With a good will, Your Majesty," the faun bowed again and exited.

Svéda was first to enter. She ushered the princess after her, whispering words of encouragement and walked over. She curtsied. Eleanor followed the motion and while paying attention, took in the beautifully designed Throne Room as Svéda spoke, "I shall leave now, Your Graces," she said, "I must attend to other matters."

"Well met, Naiad," Lucy smiled, "Be on your way."

Svéda smiled and curtsied first to the monarchs, then exchanged with Eleanor. She left shortly afterward, leaving the four and their guest alone in the room.

"Good morning, Eleanor," Susan smiled. Eleanor looked up, "Good morning," she said and nodded to the others.

"Had you a nice rest?" Peter asked. Eleanor caught her tongue for a moment, taking care of her words and smiled softly, "Yes, I have. Thank you for inquiring."

Edmund watched her as she had a conversation with Susan about what was to make up her day. She looked so different from last night, and from his terrible dream. The Eleanor now looked much more relaxed, and slightly…he couldn't quite put it in words. Her once pale face had now returned to its fair state and her grey eyes were not as icy as how he remembered it. Eleanor's auburn waves were also tied neatly behind her head, revealing her full complexion. It was such a pity however that one could still see the hint of sadness in her eyes, and hear the sound of melancholy in her voice. Edmund sighed as he listened to Susan saying, "After the Armory I could take you to the gardens."

"I would enjoy that, Susan," Eleanor nodded again.

Susan turned to Edmund, "Edmund," she said and her brother hummed in acknowledgement, "Will any of your councils be held in the courtyard?"

"Not at all," said the king and he smiled kindly at the princess, "Have a stroll there if you like."

Eleanor smiled back, her grey eyes meeting his, presenting him a void of blankness. Edmund looked back at his sister, who had nodded and said, "Well, then I supposed our day has begun. Peter and Edmund have their meetings, Lucy has her rounds, and so have we. Come now," Susan smiled and she and her siblings stood from their thrones parting ways and exiting the room through different doors. Eleanor followed Susan to one on the far left of the thrones and down a stairwell.

"Edmund," Peter caught his brother by the arm, stopping him for the moment. Edmund looked back questioningly, "Pete, we'll be late for council."

"I know," Peter said, "But I wanted to ask you if you're really all right. You've been seeming so distant lately."

Edmund avoided his brother's blue stare. They could read anything. The younger king bit his lip, "It's just been these dreams Peter. I've had them for two nights now, that's all."

Peter sighed, "Why don't you want to talk about it?"

"Alright," Edmund said, "I'll tell you later. I promise."

Peter nodded and pulled his brother in a one-armed hug. Edmund smiled at him gratefully and the kings continued on their way.

"The Armory is where we keep most of the supplies of our men, save for the weapons which are part of the Weaponry. They all have different rooms however," Susan smiled as she led an interested Eleanor through the torch lit room, pointing to different areas as she spoke, "Through that door over there is where our Centaurs keep their armor."  
Eleanor followed Susan's hand to a huge wooden door at the far right of the room.

"And over here we have the armor for the footsoldier Fauns. Their armor differs from that of the archers, which you will find through the next door here."

Eleanor nodded and walked on until Susan came to one of the last doors, "Here you'll find human armor, which isn't very large in number. You'll like this, I think," Susan smiled and opened the door for Eleanor who walked in carefully. Her eyes were greeted with the sight of different armor for archers and horsemen and swordsmen. The air was filled with the scent of leather and steel. In the middle of the room was a large worktable, where the two royals found a female Centaur and a handful of dwarves bent over their work. They looked up and greeted the two with smiles and 'Good mornings' and 'How do you dos.' Eleanor watched as Susan replied to them all, granting them a little bit of chat, "This is our guest, Lady Eleanor," Susan introduced. The dwarves and centaur greeted the princess enthusiastically. Then one of the dwarves stood from his chair and ran over to the gentle queen, "Queen Susan," he said with a deep bow. Eleanor looked at this dwarf. His beard was just inches off of the ground, touching the tips of his little dwarf shoes. His shirt and tunic were of dark leather and earth-colored fabric. He had a sword belt around his waist. Susan smiled down at him and he continued, "We are almost done with the Valiant's armor. Come see."

Susan gestured for Eleanor to follow her and the girls walked after the dwarf who led them to a large stone chest. The dwarf opened it and allowed Susan to gape inside as she pulled out a deep maroon colored dress and chain mail, "It looks very fit for battle," she commented. The dwarf bowed modestly, "We have yet to finish the design for a leather tunic that will do for holding daggers as well as a bow and arrow like yours. It will be the first time we shall attempt at it."  
Susan smiled, still holding up the armor, imagining Lucy wearing it proudly and bravely for Narnia, "Take your time," she said, "The High King still thinks she is too young for battle."

The dwarf chuckled good naturedly as Susan folded the dress back into the chest, "She'll come of age soon, and her training will thus commence."  
"So she will," Susan smiled, "What of King Edmund's red tunic?" she asked. Edmund had accidentally gotten it torn in a part of the chest area while he was practicing with Oreius, who had run his blade too close to the king. The dwarf smiled confidently, "All finished. Follow me."

Again, Susan beckoned for Eleanor to follow as they were led to a suit of armor that belonged to the Just. It was fitted on a model of a body.

"Recently." Said the dwarf and added, "Just yesterday, in fact."

Susan nodded approvingly as she fingered the once damaged tunic, "Excellent," she said, "It's as good as new."

Eleanor stared at the armor for a moment, imagining Edmund wearing it and sparring into the field of battle. She inched closer and she looked at the individual chains of the mail, which was already clothed under the Narnian red tunic, complete with the helmet and sword belt. A golden lion at the center of the tunic was embroidered, standing proud with its paws clawing on one side and its mouth fixed in a loud roar. Susan's voice broke into her thoughts, "He first wore his armor in the Battle of Beruna," she said softly, as if reminiscing the time in her head. Eleanor nodded, her eyes still on the armor, "He fought hard?"

"Very hard," Susan said, "Nearly lost his life."

Eleanor turned to meet the gentle gaze of the queen. Her own grey eyes welled slightly, "I suppose," she said and took another glance at the armor, "Everyone is a gambler with death. Especially on the field of battle."

Edmund cleared his throat as he walked down the ground halls lining the courtyard. He had just finished his meeting with Dwínsborum, the Head Guard of the fauns. _That meeting took longer than I expected,_ Edmund thought, _At least, however, the ideas he presented to me were good enough to be enforced in their strategy. _But even then, the king was slightly worried that he would be late for his next meeting with the Griffins. As Edmund walked, he occasionally stole glances through the stone pillars and on the courtyard when he heard voices up ahead. Quickening his pace, he came out of the halls and stepped onto the courtyard. He saw Susan and Eleanor walking and chatting as they neared him. They had yet to notice him though. Edmund walked on until Susan caught sight of him, "Edmund!" she called, a kind smile on her face.

Eleanor stopped in her tracks for a moment and looked up to see Edmund trotting over, his hair clearly windblown. The princess mused that perhaps this was from running. The king stopped in front of them, his dark eyes smiling, "Good day, you two," he said. Eleanor still found it strange, but in a pleasant way, to hear his unusually deep voice, and yet hear it so gentle and kind. Susan smiled, "Where are you off to now? You don't look like you have time for a short stroll."  
"I wish I had," Edmund said, "But Brimgar and the griffins are waiting at the Perch."

Susan laughed, "Well, someone's work seems to be catching up to the High King's," she teased. Edmund chuckled. Eleanor found it well that she spoke, for it would be rude if she remained silent, "How fair thee?"

Edmund looked at her, "I'm a bit tired," he said honestly, "But I'll try to join you if this meeting finishes early enough."

Susan then noticed that her brother _did_ look tired, and his obvious lack of sleep seemed not to be doing him any good either. She stepped forward, and pressed her lips gently on his forehead, "Be well, Ed," she said with a smile, "And try to get some sleep tonight."

Edmund smirked playfully at his sister, "With a good will, Your Majesty."

Eleanor watched the brother and sister and her face clouded over in sadness. She had an older sister too, didn't she? Or at least she used to. Her name was Mathilda, the Beavers once told her. Did Mathilda once give her kisses on the forehead too? Was Mathilda also as loving to her as Susan was to Edmund?

"And how fair thee, Eleanor?" Edmund asked. Eleanor shifted hearing the address breaking through her thoughts, "I fair well, Edmund," she answered with a light smile. Edmund searched her eyes for any hint of secrecy, but he found nothing. _Nothing,_ Edmund thought, _Is that how you feel inside? _ Nodding, he said, "I'll see you at supper, then," and to Susan, "Lessons?"

Susan nodded, "Till then."

Eleanor watched as the king walked briskly off and entered the dark ground halls again. She bit her lip. He had searched her earlier, purposefully caught her eye and tried looking for an answer, while his eyes, dark and full of concern, had seemed to offer a sort of consolation. Eleanor shook her head to clear her thoughts. No. She didn't need consolation. She was perfectly _fine._

Later that afternoon signaled the start of the hour for lessons. The four monarchs met in the study, and found that they were all very early, for Ortemius had not yet arrived.

"Where do you suppose?" Peter had asked. Susan flipped the pages of the book that was assigned to her on Borovian accounts, "I don't know," she said and looked up "I haven't seen him yet, actually."

Edmund remained silent. The absence of the Teacher was indeed unusual, for Ortemius was always very punctual, and in fact would encourage his students to follow the example. Edmund then recalled the night when he found the Teacher in the library, cloaked and searching for his said 'books.' The king was not entirely sure what to make of it, and at the moment, he was pondering over his thoughts about what the Old Teacher may have really been up to. Lucy again noticed her older brother staring into space and laid a gentle hand on his arm, "Edmund?"

Edmund looked at her, "Yes, Lu?"

"Are you all right?"

Edmund hummed, "Just thinking."

The door of the study opened quickly, and in came the Old Teacher. All four monarchs rose in greeting and bowed respectfully. Ortemius nodded his acknowledgement and hurriedly laid out his scrolls and books on the table, "Good afternoon, my Lieges," he said, "And be seated."

The siblings followed and took out their scrolls and quills, ready for their lesson.

"My apologies for being tardy this afternoon," said the Teacher, "I had run some errands."

Edmund furrowed his brow and fixed his eyes on the Teacher while he continued to proceed with his talking, "Please open to the pages I have asked you to study from the Borovian accounts you have." Ortemius walked carefully around the table and stopped by Edmund's seat, handing him an old rolled up scroll while saying, "I have here some materials you may find interesting for today's lesson."  
Edmund wrinkled his nose while he had been flipping the pages of his book. The Teacher walked away again and distributed more scrolls to Lucy, Susan, and Peter. Edmund shifted in his seat. _Pine,_ he thought confused, _Why would he be smelling like Pine?_ Being so observant, the young king knew that Ortemius smelled like old leather-bound books and herbs, but never the fresh scent of pine. Edmund knew that the trees were dominant in all the woods of Narnia. Still staring at the Teacher, he wondered why his siblings did not seem to notice anything unusual, _Now, what have you been doing outside?_ thought the young king as Ortemius walked back to his original place in front of the board. The Teacher caught Edmund's eye, and both stared at each other for a few moments. Ortemius huffed mildly and turned his back and hang a large map of arrows that pointed in nearly all directions. In the middle of the map, among the beautiful script, was something that looked like an oboe to Edmund, only simpler. It was at an angle, and winding around it were two vines. At the end of the vine near the center of the instrument was a beautiful looking rose-like flower, but this rose seemed to look much more…worth-the-second-glance. It had slightly larger petals and more of them in number too, making the flower look more full than any other rose Edmund had seen in his life. And even if it was but a sketch, the king could just imagine how beautiful it might look like in reality. He unrolled his own scroll and found that it revealed a similar map, but without the sketch in the middle, or any other part of the scroll for that matter.

"This," Ortemius said, "Is the map of the Royal Bloodline of Borovia," the Teacher continued his brief explanations of the monarchy before and during the Long Winter. And as he pointed to the different families, following the sequence of the arrows, he explained how these royals had become related to each other and succeeded the throne, thus comprising the many royal families that ruled for Borovia's crown. The oboe, as the Pevensies learned, was actually a Shawm, the national instrument of Borovia. The flower that wound around it was the Flüvrea, Borovia's white rose. Ortemius spoke slowly, and carefully, and continued the history until he came to the last monarchial family, "And the last of the Varchovîch," Ortemius said, referring to the Royal Name, "Under King Marthelius and Queen Vericha of Borovia."

Edmund shivered. _Eleanor Varchovîch._ Did she know that she carried the name?

"Now, you must understand, my kings and queens," Ortemius said, "That this being the last monarchy of Borovia, it is their story that we must study hard. After all, they were one out of the three who ruled during the period of the Long Winter."

It was true. King Garvîosk had been ruler for forty years when the Long Winter began. His age however had took its toll, thus Borovia said her goodbye to the monarch. Queen Slavinakov, daughter of Garvîosk was only twenty years of age when she sat upon the throne, until one night Borovia awoke to the news that their queen had died in her sleep. The castle doctors tried to find out more about the cause of her death but never succeeded. This led Borovia's people to think that their Queen may have been poisoned, since rebellions in Borovia were already rising at that time due to the conflict of how the country's allegiance with Narnia was affecting them along with the Long Winter. Slavinakov ruled for a total of thirty-seven years and three months. The closest relative of the Varchovîch was Marthelius, who had already married Vericha when he was crowned king, and Vericha, queen.

"If you will, Your Majesties," Ortemius said, "King Edmund is the holder of the account that has the abstract pattern of the last Varchovîch. Take a look, for it is the only authentic artwork of Marthelius's family that could be recovered and recreated in our texts."

Edmund set his book at the center of the table so his siblings could see it better. Lucy's breath caught in her throat when she saw the child Eleanor, the angel among the five monarchs. Peter's bright blue eyes clouded over in a hint of sadness, and Susan's expression was fully of regret and sympathy. Edmund, however, had resolved to looking away. He couldn't bear to see the face of that innocent and spirited looking little girl again.

Eleanor wandered aimlessly through Cair Paravel's hallways, letting her thoughts flow freely the way they pleased. The castle was incredibly large, and had so many rooms and passages and stairs and doors. Eleanor even doubted that she saw at least half of the beautiful structure and wondered how much more there was to see. For the time that was allotted for the day, Susan had been able to take the princess through the armory, weaponry, receiving room where Eleanor was welcomed the previous night, the courtyard and the gardens. Then there was the Secondary Library, the one that was used quite regularly. When the princess had asked why it was called so, the gentle queen simply replied that there was actually another library, much larger and more furnished and old than the Secondary. It was located on the second level, where the study was also found. It occupied however, nearly an entire wing, and therefore only had one access hallway, which as earlier mentioned, was rarely passed. Susan promised that she would take Eleanor there at a more appropriate time, for the Main Library was so vast that you could spend nearly a day just on books. Eleanor presently descended the grand staircase that led to the first floor. Her footfalls made soft taps on the marble, and her hand slid gracefully on the polished rails. Stopping at the foot of the stairs, Eleanor looked around and felt a strange feeling of nostalgia. It was as if she had been in the same room in the past, only perhaps much more grand. She could barely remember it though. In fact she wasn't sure if she'd really seen it. The princess made her way towards one of the great windows looking out to the front path of Cair Paravel. She supposed that that was where carriages passed through or hitched their horses when royals came for important gatherings and visits. The sky out was very blue, and very bright, clear of almost any cloud. A pair of faun guards walked past on the path, hands on the hilts of their swords, still sheathed, hooves crunching on the gravel and lips moving slightly as they spoke.

_Then the fauns changed their appearance. Their horns disappeared from their curly hair, which was neatly combed and fixed under a black hat of velvet with a single feather for an accent, and their beards shortened till they looked cleanly shaved; their goat's legs were replaced by those of a human's, wearing a very presentable ensemble of white breeches and black shined boots, matching smartly with bloodred tunics. _

Eleanor hummed and furrowed her brow. She shut her eyes, shook her head and opened her eyes again. The fauns were still there, walking farther and farther down the path. They weren't humans. They were fauns. _Fauns,_ Eleanor repeated willfully to herself.

Slowly, the princess turned away from the window and walked across the hall to a fairly large framed canvas painting. It was of the four kings and queens of Narnia. Eleanor looked up to see the entire canvas. The room in the canvas was bright from the daylight that poured from a single great window, its curtains running fluidly to the ground. The carpet was a handsome shade of crème, upon which was a long couch with Narnian embroidery on the cushions in gold. On the couch was the unmistakable Queen Lucy, the Valiant, and to her right, Queen Susan. They wore the most regal clothing Eleanor had ever seen in Narnia so far. Lucy was dressed in a beautiful gown of grays and whites and silvers and pearls. Her hair was perfectly straight, as it always was, falling nearly below her shoulders. Atop her head was her crown. Susan wore the shades of the sky, of light blue and deep blue, of silks like white gold and sapphire jewels. Her dark hair fell in perfect waves around her shoulders and clearing of her face as her own crown kept her locks tame. Standing behind their sisters were King Edmund and High King Peter. Edmund was in an ensemble of earth, with a deep forest green, shades near to black and emerald silks for some parts of his clothing. His hand was rested lightly on Susan's shoulder, his crown sitting in his dark hair. Peter had his hand as well on Lucy's shoulder, and was dressed in the shades of red, of scarlet and white and gold and excellent embroidery. His crown was also on his head, the one that shined the greatest and said to be made out of the finest gold, truly fit for the High King. All four were in very smart postures, wearing faces that did not smile. But, strangely enough, there was a glint in each eye. Eleanor marveled at how the artist of the painting managed to capture it so well. Susan's eyes were captivating and kind, and very beautiful. Lucy's eyes, round and framed with lovely lashes, held a look of playfulness and love. Peter's eyes were brotherly and protective, and very serious. Edmund's eyes were loving, kind, and as Eleanor noticed with slight amusement, mischievous. Just the way a younger brother's eyes should look. Again, her thoughts wandered to her family. What did their eyes look like? What emotions did they hold? What characteristics did they present about themselves? Eleanor willed her mind to clear again. Never had she thought of her family so much before. She looked at the gold that framed and protected the beautiful canvas. It had intricate marks carved into it: leaves, flowers, vines and the ever-beautiful lion's head on all four corners of the frame. However, at the lower center of the structure was a smooth surface, on which were the engravings, 'King Edmund the Just, High King Peter the Magnificent, Queen Susan the Gentle, Queen Lucy the Valiant,' following the arrangement of the monarchs in the painting. Eleanor looked up at it for one last time, again feeling a strange uncertainty of her life in Narnia.

Ortemius waited patiently as his students read over their maps and referred to their books. The pattern of the Borovian family lay at the center of the table in full view.

"Some time," the Old Teacher said as he carefully changed his position in his seat, "We shall enter the Main Library and resume our studies on Borovia there, where we will have more accounts that we can refer to."

"We have such documents here, Teacher?" Peter asked, and along with his siblings, a little surprised.

"Yes, Your Majesties. You did not know," Ortemius deep and old voice rumbled softly in his chest as he chuckled. It was not a question, but a statement. Lucy cocked her head to one side and said thoughtfully, "Do we have many records, Teacher?"

"I'm afraid we don't have so many, but only enough."

The short conversation came to a halt as the monarchs continued their studies. Ortemius dismissed them soon however, as the afternoon was beginning to wear on. As the Pevensies gathered their things, placed their books back to their shelves and returned rolled up maps to the Teacher, Edmund paid attention to Ortemius who only tidied the room with the others. Finally, when all was done, the siblings began to leave one by one. Edmund held back, eyeing a questioning Peter that he would join them shortly.

"Master," the king said when he and his Teacher were left alone in the room. Ortemius nodded as he made his way slowly around the study, collecting new books, "Yes, Your Majesty?"

Edmund set his face in a thoughtful frown, choosing his words carefully, "You and the Council," he said carefully, "Being magicians and all. You saw the Long Winter?"

Ortemius continued to look over the books, scanning the yellowed pages and parchment as he mulled over the question. He turned to face the king and eyed him suspiciously, "Lived through it, my lord."

Edmund nodded, "Including you?"

"Quite so."

Edmund nodded and looked out the window, a griffin flying past signaling the change of shifts. He thought about his next question, one he knew he had to think over carefully again, "So then I suppose you have seen Borovia?"

"Is that a question, Sire?"

"Yes, it is."

Ortemius cleared his throat, "Yes. I have seen the country when she still stood on her powerful foundation." Ortemius laid down a book on the table and stared at the king.

Edmund swallowed, his dark eyes stealing a glance at the newly laid down text. _So you have. How much do you know of her crown?_

"Have you met any of the Varchovîch?"

A strange smile crept over Ortemius lips, sending a slight chill down Edmund's back, "Certainly, my King. To be sure."

Edmund nodded again and bowed, "That would be all. I was but wondering."

Ortemius bowed in return and watched as the king walked to the door, "Until the next time we meet, King Edmund," he said suddenly. Edmund turned, already holding the great door ajar. He set his eyes on the Teacher for a moment before replying, "Till then."

As the door closed behind the king, Ortemius turned again and walked over to the window overlooking the Narnian woods, "To be sure, my King. To be sure."

**Author's Note: Eleanor's character is still under-developed :) but only because you will get to know her at the monarchs' pace. Let me know if you think I can improve on something here. Thanks and review! And I hope you guys are having a happy Valentine's :)**


	6. Chapter 5: Conundrum

**Author's Note: You'll have to forgive me that this took so long. Our school had announced that the National Exams and Final Exams were to be taken for two weeks straight. I had to prepare for that, so I'm very sorry I had to cut back from FanFic for a while :( **

**Anyway, I won't bore you with this note :) I hope you enjoy **_**Conundrum!**_

**Chapter 5: Conundrum**

_The Secret Police only existed as far as the White Witch's rule. It was comprised of a pack of wolves that served as stealthy patrollers during the night and were used at a great advantage. Headed by Maugrim, the Secret Police had become the most fearsome of the Followers to Narnians residing in the Western Woods._

Eleanor looked below the text and found a rough sketch of a pack of wolves surrounding a fox. Each wolf's snout was fixed in a terrible growl, bearing sharp teeth perfect for kill. The next page revealed a single wolf. Its eyes were narrowed nearly to slits and its mouth pulled back revealing its fangs. Below the picture was written _Maugrim, Captain of the Secret Police._ Eleanor closed the old book and placed it back in the shelf, feeling a shiver at the back of her neck. Just then a knock on the library door sounded. Eleanor jumped, _Goodness!_ she thought and shook her head to clear her mind, _Perhaps I shouldn't read such things at this time of the day._

"Eleanor, are you here?"

Eleanor recognized Susan's gentle tone and she emerged from the shelves, "Good evening," she greeted. Susan smiled, "There you are," she said and her face fell at the sight of the princess, "You look a little pale. Are you all right?"  
Eleanor tried to smile back reassuringly, "I'm all right, Susan."

The queen looked skeptical for a moment and decided to push the matter aside, "Very well then," she said a little more cheerfully, "Come, Lucy's waiting outside. You should get ready for dinner."

Eleanor smiled and allowed herself to be ushered out the door. Sure enough, Lucy was just waiting in the hall. Her face lit up at the sight of Eleanor, "And how are you?"

"I'm all right, Lucy," Eleanor replied and returned the queen's smile, "And you?"

"Charming. Quick, I'm sure we'll have a wonderful meal tonight," Lucy grinned and led the way down the halls. Eleanor and Susan followed behind, chatting amongst themselves about the day. When they arrived at Eleanor's quarters however, Susan and Lucy had thoughtful scowls on their faces.

"Is something wrong?" Eleanor asked.

Lucy turned to face her, "I wonder where Svéda is. She's supposed to be here waiting for you to help you get ready for supper."

Eleanor cocked her head slightly. She didn't know the maids had such duties at Cair, "Perhaps she has matters to attend to."

"I doubt it," Susan said beside her, "Well, I suppose we can help you then," and smiled widely. Eleanor gaped a little and said, "I assure you," she said uneasily, "You don't have to do that. I can take care of myself."

Lucy and Susan giggled. "Oh, come now, Eleanor," Lucy said, "Susan does hair quite well, you know."

Eleanor laughed lightly and shook her head, her grey eyes expressing a feeling they had nearly forgotten, "Well, all right…" she said amusedly.

Lucy smiled at Susan, and both queens knew they had succeeded in letting Eleanor open up to them just a little bit more.

Edmund walked up the staircase to his room. _Why am I so tired?_ he thought. He _was_ tired. Exhausted actually, and he couldn't figure out why. _Bother those dreams._ The king continued his way to the top of the stairs.  
"Finally."

Edmund started and found his brother leaning against the wall of the corridor, "By the Lion, Pete, you should know better than to do that."

Peter smirked teasingly, "Do what, startle you? You sound like Susan."

Edmund laughed and rolled his eyes, "Shut up."

Peter met his brother and pulled him into a hug and ruffled his dark hair, "You promised you'd talk to me, Ed."

Edmund's smile left his face. _He remembered._

"Ed?"

"I know," Edmund pulled away and both remained silent for a moment. Edmund tried to change the course of the conversation, "Where're Susan and Lucy?"

"They went to change for dinner after lessons. I suppose they're with Eleanor now," Peter folded his arms over his chest and eyed Edmund with a 'don't change the subject' glare. Edmund shot him a look and nodded, "I know what you're thinking, Pete."

"I'm just concerned about you, Edmund," Peter said and walked closer to his brother, "And I can see it Susan too. If you keep up your silence like this she'll get all worried. And you know how she is when gets all worried."

Edmund smirked shortly and gave it some thought, "Fine," he said, "The gardens in half an hour?"

"Give me your word."

Edmund rolled his eyes, "Peter, do you honestly need that?"

"Ed!"

"Alright! You have my word, _Your Majesty,"_ Edmund glared and took a step to continue on his way but Peter had pulled him into a brotherly hug, "Ed, I just wish you'd tell me what's bothering you. Don't you remember the time when you were little? Before the war, I mean," Peter pulled back and looked at his brother right in the eye. Edmund met his gaze and nodded, "Sorry, Pete," said he, "I just…don't know where to start. I mean I know what to say but," Edmund wrinkled his nose, trying to find the right words, "These dreams are different. They're not…they're _different."_

Peter smiled kindly, "I see, but you'll have to tell me all the same, alright?"

Edmund smirked and punched his brother on the arm, "Alright. Now stop being so serious and…High-Kingly."

Peter laughed and ruffled Edmund's hair again. Trust King Edmund to insert his humor in any serious conversation.

Susan hummed as she finished tying the ribbon of Eleanor's dress at the back, "There you are," she said triumphantly and motioned for the other girl to sit on a chair, "Let's do your hair then."

Eleanor smiled as she seated herself and faced the mirror. She watched as Susan ran a brush gently through her hair, humming a small tune. _Then Susan started to change. Her hair turned a deep auburn and her face was suddenly the face of another woman. Her complexion looked very much like Eleanor and she smiled as she tried to get the brush out of a knot in Eleanor's hair._

"Susan," came a voice.  
Eleanor pulled back to reality. Susan was still brushing her hair. _Susan,_ she thought firmly, _It's only Susan. Oh, what _is_ the matter with me?_

"Yes, Lu?" Susan replied looking at the younger queen through the mirror.

"I can't find her anywhere," Lucy was just closing the door behind her and wearing a furrow on her brow, one that was very confused. Susan paused and turned to face Lucy properly, Eleanor following the motion.

"Are you sure you've looked in the Maids' Quarters?"

Lucy nodded, "I've looked everywhere. And the guards don't recall seeing her through the past hour."

Susan and Eleanor exchanged glances. Eleanor was first to speak, "Did she not leave a message to anyone?"

Lucy shook her head, "Strangely, she didn't. I hope she's all right, wherever she is."

Susan smiled and looked down in thought, "I supposed that's it then," she said and gestured for Eleanor to again face the mirror. Lucy sat herself on the bed, "All we can do now is wait until later or morn and question her till then."

Susan looked very serious, "Dear me, I hope it doesn't take that long."

Eleanor had been fumbling with her necklace, deep in thought and unaware that Susan was watching her. She looked up at once when the queen said, "That's a beautiful Narnian necklace," she smiled.

Eleanor let out a breath, "Pity I don't remember who gave it to me."

Lucy smiled sympathetically, "We could ask the Narnian jewelers, Eleanor."

Eleanor smiled through the mirror and her grey eyes looked distant as she said, "It's all right, Lucy. I don't want you to go through the trouble of having to ask every jeweler in Narnia."

Susan looked at Lucy and nodded sadly. Lucy sighed. _The poor girl. I do wish there was a way to find the jeweler._

"After all," Eleanor continued quietly, "If the jeweler were Borovian, he wouldn't be alive anymore."

"Oh, Eleanor, think not those things," Susan said encouragingly, "They won't do you any good on such a beautiful evening."

Lucy smiled, "Susan's right, Eleanor. Let's try to enjoy the night, alright?"

Eleanor smiled apologetically, "Of course," she said, "Do forgive me."

Peter sat on a stone bench in the gardens, waiting for Edmund. The High King rested his elbows on his knees and played with his hands, lost in thought. Edmund knew how to handle himself, that was very true, but to the point wherein he was already calling his dreams _different_ would mean something else. And it worried Peter. The king looked up to see the silhouettes of two griffins flying overhead. Peter smiled, again remembering Edmund, who had recently become in charge of seeing to the patrols, for Peter had become very busy reigning as High King of Narnia. _Aslan,_ he thought, _Please let Edmund tell me everything tonight._ Peter then heard soft footfalls on the grass and he looked up to find Edmund walking over, his left hand gripping the hilt of his sword. Peter stood, "Beautiful night, isn't it?"

Edmund smirked, "Too bad we aren't here to enjoy it."

Peter shrugged, "Would you rather sit or…"

"I'd much rather stand," Edmund laughed, "You know how I get when I sit and talk about things like this."

Peter chuckled, "All right, then."

Edmund nodded and furrowed his brow, "Where to begin…"

"You said you had two dreams," Peter said, offering a bit of help, "Tell me about the first one and what happened."

So Edmund began to narrate his first dream. Jadis had threatened to kill him then, and sure enough he walked to the Stone Table instead of Aslan. Then he heard Eleanor as a child, screaming and crying in Borovian that her family not be harmed. The second dream was described when Edmund found himself by the Birch, the same landmark that he and Philip used to wait for Eleanor, only this time he was alone. And he heard the older Eleanor crying the same Borovian words.

"Then there was always Jadis. If I couldn't see her, I could hear her," Edmund finished. Peter had listened to him through and through, deep in thought and not moving, while Edmund had been pacing about. Peter spoke, "And you don't know what these dreams mean?"

"I don't," Edmund replied shortly. Then he stopped pacing, "Ortemius," he mumbled.

"Pardon?"

Edmund furrowed his brow and looked at Peter, "After that first dream, I decided I wanted to clear my mind so I walked to the library. When I got there," Edmund paused and had a strange look on his face, "I saw Ortemius."

"Did he see you too?"  
"Yes. He was the one who found me first, actually."

Peter cocked his head to one side, "Did you talk?"

Edmund nodded.

"What about?"

"Survivors. I asked him if he believed if there were any Borovian survivors."  
Peter raised his eyebrows, "What got you asking him that?"

"I found it impossible that the entire population was destroyed," the younger king shrugged, "I mean, after I had that dream, and when I saw the Beavers outside, I thought maybe there were survivors."

"More than one?"  
Edmund nodded and paced again, "The conversation didn't last very long, though. It was more like he was avoiding it."  
"What I want to know is this," Peter said, "What was he doing in the library at that hour?"

Edmund laughed bitterly, "He was looking for some _documents_ he could find useful in our next lesson."

It was Peter's turn to pace, "The way you describe the course of events," he said and began to look very serious, "The way you describe your dreams. They don't sound like they're just ordinary dreams."

"What do you mean?"  
Peter looked thoughtful, "Dreams are just games of the mind, Ed," said he, "They are triggered by what you've experienced in the past, and what you worry about in the future. But, Ed, you don't even know a single word of Borovian and yet you were able to hear the exact sentence Eleanor cried out as a child?"

Edmund stared hard at the ground, again gripping the hilt of his sword. Peter had a point.

"And also," the older brother said, "You weren't even at the Stone Table when Aslan was killed. How could your dream have been in such detail?"

"What are you getting at, Peter?" Edmund asked, slowly getting irritable at the situation.

"I'm saying that the only explanation for your dreams is magic. A very deep magic."

Edmund laughed, "Pete, _magic?"_

Peter fixed his gaze on his brother, "What other explanation do you have?" he challenged. Edmund growled under his breath in frustration, "Alright, then," he said, "Then if it _is_ magic, what am I supposed to do now?"

"You know that to understand magic, you have to know its source."

Edmund rolled his eyes, "How do you expect me to do that?"

"Do us both a favor and calm down."

"And how do you expect me to do _that?"_

"Ed."

Edmund set his jaw and held up his hands, "Do you want me to think about what might have happened before I started having these dreams?"

"Yes. Like I said, it has to be experienced or seen, so the Beavers are out of the question. Think hard."

Edmund scuffed his boot against another bench. He froze and looked at Peter, "The books," he said quietly.

Just then the brothers jumped at the sound of a twig snapping from the bushes. Both kings unsheathed their swords.

"You heard that?" Edmund asked. Peter nodded and put a finger to his lips.

Nothing.

"Who's there?" Peter called.

Silence.

Edmund laid his blade on his forearm and quietly walked to the bushes. With a quick motion he brushed his sword on the plants, "There's no one here," he called back. Peter huffed and furrowed his brow, "I hope that really was nothing."

Edmund nodded, "Let's go. We'll be late for supper."

As Peter led the way, Edmund stole a glance back at the bushes, as if something would come out and pounce at him. But both brothers were unaware of a pair of black wolves watching them with narrowed eyes. They grinned meanly at each other and made their way stealthily to the woods.

The Dining Hall could perhaps be considered as one of the grandest rooms you'll find at Cair Paravel. Its walls were made of polished marble and accenting white stone. About three very large chandeliers hung from the ceiling, providing a most sufficient amount of light for the evening. There was a very long carpet, just enough to lie beneath the great wooden table, which was exclusively for Cair's immediate monarchs. The table, as Eleanor identified, was made of Darkwood, only it might have been varnished to a certain degree so it could look more appropriate for the room. There were mirrors and windows framed in gold lined up side by side on the walls. And two double doors stood on either side of the walls. One led to the kitchens, whilst the other just outside to the Main Halls. Tall vases of fresh flowers stood in come corners of the room, giving off a pleasant smell. Lighted candles were set on the table, just for accent.

However, any visitor or resident in Cair Paravel must remember that the Dining Hall is different from the Banquet Hall, for the latter is only used during the most formal occasions and is therefore found on the same level as the Ballroom. Eleanor was just finishing admiring the beautiful room when Lucy, sitting right across from her, said, "I first saw the banquet hall filled with guests on the night of our coronation, do you remember, Susan?"

Susan smiled, "Oh, yes I do. In fact, I even remember poor Edmund," the queen giggled at the memory, "Do you remember when some young dryads were excited to first see a human boy?"

Eleanor smiled as she listened. Susan caught her eye and she continued her story, "Peter handled his admirers quite well, but Edmund looked as if he could readily jump off of the balcony and to the Eastern Ocean!"

Eleanor smiled and Lucy contributed to the conversation, mockingly reprimanding her sister, "Oh, Susan, you give him no credit. He _has_ changed over the past years."

"Oh, yes," Susan nodded, "Matured even. Do you remember the Galman princess? She took to him, did she not?"

Lucy smiled, "But Edmund kindly told her that he was not to that mind yet."

"Peter taught him how to do that, however," Susan smiled. Eleanor hummed and tried to imagine how Cair Paravel's beautiful structures must've looked like on the historical coronation day of the Pevensies. _It must've been unexplainably beautiful,_ she concluded.

"Speaking of Edmund," Susan told Lucy, "Didn't he promise you he'd take you out riding tomorrow?"  
"Oh, yes!" Lucy exclaimed, as if she had nearly forgotten, "He also wants to try out Phillip's new saddle. Durmin finished it over a week ago, but he hasn't had any time since."

Eleanor had not been paying much attention and was slightly taken by surprise when Susan said, "Why don't you join them tomorrow, Eleanor?"

The princess opened her mouth and closed it again before finally saying, "I haven't even the slightest idea how to ride," she said shyly. Lucy smiled, "Then how else do you expect to learn without practice?"

"And Thistleberry is an excellent teacher," Susan said, "I'm sure she'd love to go out tomorrow, especially if the day is good. After all, I have been a bit guilty of not having so much time for her," Susan sighed and shook her head, "And I'll just be even more busy tomorrow, for if Edmund takes Lucy out, someone has to stay and help Peter."

Eleanor smiled with much uncertainty, "Well…"

"Come now, Eleanor," Lucy grinned excitedly, "I'm sure it will be fun. You'll see Narnia in a better light too!"

Eleanor's eyes grew distant, thinking about the beautiful forests and grassy plains… "Oh, all right," she smiled.

"Wonderful!" Lucy clapped her hands together. Just then the hall door opened and Peter came in, looking slightly windblown, "Good evening, everyone," said he. After exchanging greetings, he walked quickly to Susan and whispered something in her ear. At about that time, Edmund came in too and caught Susan's eye just as he was closing the door. Susan nodded as Peter straightened up and she smiled and shook her head at Edmund. The younger king only winked playfully. As Peter seated himself at the head of the table, Edmund sat beside Lucy and across Susan, "Good evening," he greeted and nodded to Lucy, "Lu."

Lucy held his hand in acknowledgement, "Where have you two been?" she asked innocently. Edmund looked at Peter and said, "The stables. I made arrangements for tomorrow," he smiled, "That is if you still want to ride."

Lucy's face lit up, "Of course I do!"

Peter smirked and Edmund kicked him under the table. Lucy grinned, "Oh, Edmund. I hope you don't mind if Eleanor joins us tomorrow," she said happily. Edmund sat up and stole a glance at the princess. She returned his look by nodding, her eyes habitually holding his gaze. Edmund nodded back, again feeling a rush of different feelings coursing through his subconscious. He shook his head and managed a smile at Lucy, "Not at all," said he. Lucy smiled.

Peter watched Edmund carefully. He knew his brother was uneasy. _Come on, Ed,_ thought the High King, _It's just dreams. There's nothing to it now._  
Eleanor turned her gaze elsewhere, he brow furrowed worriedly. _With Edmund,_ she thought quietly, wondering why the king always looked at her so strangely, as if he was concerned about something around her, as if there was something wrong. Eleanor heaved a quiet sigh.

At that moment dinner was served, and the mood in the hall changed to something much brighter, leaving Eleanor very grateful. She was again surprised though, of the amount of food being served. It did look very much fit for kings and queens, with sweet meats, boiled potatoes, good wine, and so much more. The dishes were so delicious that it would probably be best if they won't be described in this part of the story.

"So what has kept you occupied during the order of the day, Eleanor?" Peter smiled kindly. Eleanor thought over her words for a moment before saying, "Well, Susan's taken me through Cair Paravel today," she said, "But I hardly think I've seen even half of the castle."

The siblings all smiled knowingly. They knew that Cair was very big. It was impossible to see its entirety even in a full day. Eleanor continued to speak, "In the Main Halls, I was looking at some paintings lining the walls," said she, "There was one. It was a painting of all four of you," Eleanor paused to look for the right words, "Well, I can't describe it, it was very beautiful. All of you were dressed in wonderful garments and not smiling, but the artist managed to get your eyes so well."

Edmund furrowed his brow, "I think you might be talking about the one by…Oh, who was it Lucy?" he turned to his sister, "Er…Froïlin, was it?"

"Oh, yes, dear Froïlin," Susan smiled and explained to Eleanor, "Good dwarf she was," she added, "But her name always seems to slip my mind. Thank the Lion for Edmund."

The king smirked and then frowned, "I remember having a terrible itch on my nose while she was painting that though."

Everyone, including Eleanor, laughed at the comment. Peter grinned, "Well, you did an excellent job concealing it, for I don't remember you complaining."

Edmund smiled, "I didn't want to upset her," he said, "Froïlin, I mean. She was so focused the entire time."

By now, Eleanor's mind had again wandered off while the siblings talked among themselves. She picked up her goblet and looked down at the deep colored wine. _This must cost any king or queen a good deal,_ she thought. Then she noticed that she was looking at her reflection. She saw her grey eyes full of sadness and her lips in neither smile nor frown. Eleanor stared at her reflection and slowly began to get lost in thought, thinking of her past, thinking of what life must've been like for her before the White Witch, thinking how much her country had really sacrificed and done, only to be destroyed in the end. Thinking. Thinking. Weeping deeply inside. _Eleanor started to see someone else, someone younger, and younger, and then suddenly a child. The child had large, bright grey eyes like her own, and the most long and wavy auburn hair. She had on her face a wide smile and she started to laugh. Then someone picked her up. It was a boy, much, much older than the child. He laughed deeply and lovingly as he hugged the child and twirled her around. His hair was the same auburn, only perhaps deeper in color. Then the two faced Eleanor and began to wave. Eleanor watched the boy closely and saw his eyes, a deep and dark hazel, loving, gentle and full of joy._

Eleanor gasped and placed the goblet quickly back on the table. She felt her breath catch in her throat, and around her she could hear the Pevensies laughing and engaged in conversation. She looked up and caught Edmund staring at her.

_Deep and dark hazel… _

Eleanor's eyes widened and she swallowed and looked away.

Edmund furrowed his brow, confused. Had he done something wrong? He looked concernedly at Eleanor, who had begun to look very pale. She cleared her throat and resumed eating her dinner, not looking at her goblet unless she needed to drink.

The black wolves howled as they ran deep through the woods. They growled and sneered as they pounded down the trails.

Meanwhile, Thrövgrim and Kvraísta stood behind a dense growth of trees, and hearing the howls, they began to pace. The wolf howled back, informing the others of his location, then he turned to Kvraísta, "They are near," he growled.

The hag looked around her and pointed to the sky, "It's about time," she hissed slowly. The two wolves jumped into full view, panting from their long run. They snapped and growled and shook their heads. Thrövgrim barked, "What news do you bring?"

The first wolf bent his foreleg in respect, "The kings had a discussion this evening, sir."

"About what?"  
"The dark one, King Edmund, and his dreams about the Great Empress, and…" the wolf looked at his comrade hesitantly. Thrövgrim snapped, "And?"  
"And Borovia," the wolf finished. Kvraísta jerked her head to the wolves, "What?"

"Silence!" Thrövgrim said, "What ails him about his dreams?"

"The King Peter," said the second wolf, "Said that it may be caused by the Dark Magic."

"Magic?" Thrövgrim raised his eyebrows and laughed between growls. Kvraísta clawed at the sky, chanting quietly in a strange language. The wolves paid no mind and Thrövgrim proceeded to ask, "What else have you learned?"

"The Spellcaster messed up our plans," the first wolf growled. Thrövgrim froze and narrowed his eyes at the other two, whose teeth were bared in a threatening snarl, "What are you talking about?"

"Hush!" Kvraísta hissed impatiently, "These are not matters to be discussed _here," _she said firmly and pointed at the two wolves, "You. You mentioned there was dark art involved. Did the kings say from where?"

The black wolves eyed each other and the first one growled at his comrade, "Nay-"

"Fool!" Thrövgrim barked, "I thought I gave you orders to pay close attention!"

"It was not _my_ offense," the wolf snapped back, "_Somebody_ snapped a twig and alerted the kings!"

The second wolf bared his teeth and opened his mouth to retort, but Kvraísta held up her claws, "Enough!" she hissed, "Are you _sure_ they mentioned nothing?"

"Only something about old books, hag," the second wolf replied, "And that is all."

Thrövgrim paced and allowed a deep growl to sound in his throat, "Hag," he said, "What do you plan to do now?"

Kvraísta began to laugh bitterly, as if she were trying to push a very disturbing matter aside, and she slithered her way to a flat part of the earth, "Something isn't right," said she, "Magic is alerting the kings through dreams, and that is not supposed to be."

"Then we must move quickly," Thrövgrim growled frustrated, "The caller is taking too much time!"

"Be patient!" the hag sneered, "He will come. I can see it in the stars."

Slowly she began to draw a circle on the earth and chant in a strange language. The wolves rounded her as she drew and began to howl. Thrövgrim narrowed his eyes and barked, "You had better be sure of what you are doing, hag," he said, "Time is running out."

Kvraísta cackled and said nothing, finishing her drawing with her claws. Thrövgrim howled loudest and looked to the sky. It was then that he saw five dark figures flit among the trees and positioning themselves like statues as they watched the scene below. Thrövgrim bared his teeth and growled, "Fulfill your purpose," he laughed darkly, the black wolves howling some more.

Eleanor seated herself on a windowsill in the hallway, just outside her quarters. She let out a breath as she watched the silhouettes of griffins fly overhead. Thoughts swam through her mind. The goblet of wine. The boy and the child. Edmund watching her. Eleanor furrowed her brow anxiously. _Dark and hazel…_ The king's eyes were the same as that of the boy's in the goblet of wine, knowing, gentle and kind.

_You know it was Ludwig, Eleanor._

Eleanor jumped up from the windowsill and looked frantically around. _That voice, _she thought, her heart racing. She had heard it before, in a dream. Itwas in her head, but it wasn't her. And it was thin and quiet and yet very cruel. The princess set her jaw and darted her piercing eyes down the hall behind her and then to the darker at her left. Eleanor bit her lip. No one was there. She knew she had heard that voice before, perhaps many, many years ago and not just in her dream. However she failed to recognize to whom it could belong to, and why she was being haunted by it.

Eleanor sat down on the windowsill again and took the necklace in her hand… _The child, _she thought. Who was the child? Eleanor shook her head to clear her mind. She knew she had no younger siblings. She was the youngest in her family and the Beavers had mentioned to her no relatives. The child in the goblet of wine looked so cheerful and happy, and her big grey eyes were those of someone so curious about her world. Eleanor sagged against the window frame and let go of the lion head pendant, a vague image of the mysterious child in her mind.

Eleanor jerked her head to the darker hall. She heard something. Squinting her eyes, she stood up and tried to make out a white figure approaching her, and looking oddly familiar... Eleanor cocked her head to one side before saying slowly, "Svéda?"

"Mistress!" came the reply, "I thought you had already gone to bed. It is not good to be up at this hour," the maid appeared in the lighted hallway by the window, wearing a smile on her face.

Eleanor looked her over and thought she looked like she had been running, for her hair was let loose in waves. She was also very pale, perhaps from the cold.

"Svéda," Eleanor said slowly, "Where've you been? The queens were looking for you this evening. Might I say they were getting quite worried."

Svéda looked down ashamed, "Forgive me, milady," she said, "I had matters of urgency to attend to, and they mustn't be discussed here. It is neither the place nor the time."

"Understood, but," Eleanor furrowed her brow skeptically, "They are sure to question you tomorrow."  
"I am aware, Your Ladyship," the naiad replied, "I will take care of talking to my lieges."

Eleanor watched as Svéda's watery eyes darted to the window and back at her. "Naiad," she said carefully, "Is everything all right?"

Svéda nodded and smiled again, "Yes, mistress. Worry not," Svéda inched closer and said quietly, "If I may ask of you a favor, mistress, not to tell the majesties you have seen me this evening."

Eleanor was taken aback. What sort of a favor was that? "Svéda, I-"

"Please, mistress," Svéda said, her eyes pleading, "I shall explain with all honesty to the queens where I have been, but this isn't the time. I must do this at my own pace."

Eleanor looked around, confused. She was not sure of how to handle the situation at present. After all, this was the first time she had to deal with a maid asking her own mistress to keep a secret.

Eleanor nodded and said hesitantly, "Very well."

Svéda smiled, relieved, "I pray thee well, milady," she said and curtsied, "Please excuse me."

"Be on your way," Eleanor said, bidding the maid the same way Lucy and Susan would have.

"Till morn, Your Ladyship."

Eleanor furrowed her brow deep in thought as she watched the maid pick up her skirts daintily and walked gracefully away and further down the hall. Eleanor turned back to the window and sat again on the sill. _Strange, _she thought.

A Faun guard walked down the path leading away from Cair Paravel's main doors. He looked up to try and see the position of the moon. He whistled for a moment, just pondering over his own thoughts when, as if on cue, he heard hooves crunching on the path. Turning, he saw a comrade, "Hello there, fellow," he smiled. The other Faun guard chuckled, "I hope I'm not too late."

"Nay, you're just in time," the guards smiled at each other and formally changed their shifts. When the first guard turned again he narrowed his eyes suspiciously and stared beyond the other guard to the distance.

"What's wrong?" asked his comrade. The first guard pointed to the direction of the Old Trail, "What's that?"

Both Fauns were now looking at a dark figure that was walking down the path. It kept walking…walking…walking and never stopped. The guards looked at each other, "Intruder?" said the first. The second looked very serious and looked back to the Old Trail. He froze. No one was there.

_On behalf of Narnia, we thank you for your continuing allegiance to our lands. Long live the Lion._

_Sincerely,_

_King Edmund the Just_

_King of Narnia, Duke of the Lantern Waste, Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Lion_

Edmund placed his quill back in its inkwell and yawned. He had just finished the last few letters he had to have sent to Anvard at once. They were very long letters too, but that only meant that Narnia was well. Edmund smiled contentedly. _Thank the Lion,_ he thought and suddenly the doors of the balcony made a very terrible noise as a gust of wind blew them out. Edmund jumped up and saved his parchment, "Oh, bother it all, nothing is ever perfect!" he exclaimed irritably. Hurriedly, he put paperweights on the letters and fetched the others that flew to the floor. The king quickly made his way onto the balcony and caught a curtain that was flying around when something below caught his eye. Edmund stopped short and narrowed his eyes to looked down. He leaned on the rails and towards the Old Trail.

_What's that?_ he thought to himself as a large black cloaked figure made its way down the trail and towards the Owlwood. Suddenly it stopped, turned and raised its head. Edmund backed slightly. It looked as if it were watching him, only its face could not be seen. Edmund growled under his breath, wondering why he couldn't see the face.

Another gust of wind came and Edmund spat as a curtain whipped itself on his face. The king shut his eyes tightly and held the curtain down. He looked at the Old Trail again and was stunned. The cloaked being was nowhere to be found. Edmund quickly closed his balcony doors and looked over the rails again.

Nothing.

The king shook his head, "Something is definitely up with me," he muttered. Taking one last glance at the trail Edmund shook his head again and made his way back into his room. Aslan help him if he were losing his sanity.

**Author's Note: Thanks for reading, and I hope you continue on with this adventure :) I'm already on my school break, so I should have more time to write. Yay!**

**Also, thank you very much to all of you who have reviewed and placed this in your favorites. It's much appreciated :)**


	7. Chapter 6: Doled Mar

**Author's Note: **Chapter 6 is _Doled Mar_ :D a way of saying 'shared pain/hurt.' This chapter was fun to write (despite that long nightmare you see in italics) heheh. I hope you enjoy it!

And just in case some of you are still wondering, _Conundrum_ is a word for 'mystery.'

**Chapter 6: Doled Mar**

Edmund inhaled sharp intakes of breath, clutching desperately onto the sheets of his bed. His eyes shut tight, deep in his nightmare, sweat patching his face greatly, shining with brilliance under the direct contact of the moonlight that poured into the quarters of the Just king.

_The Narnian scarlet tents were used only in the most important of occasions, during wars, campaigns, and if the moment pleased, tournaments. Edmund found himself standing in a tent this very moment, hearing the muffled cheers sounding from outside. He furrowed his brow, confused, glancing around him uncertainly. Then the king looked down at his clothing and realized he was in the ensemble of his own chain mail and armor. Edmund held out his hands tentatively, adjusting the straps of his leather arm guards. _

"_Your Majesty."_

_Edmund shot his head up to meet the eyes of a smiling Faun guard wearing smartly his own armor, "You have chosen for this tournament a most worthy opponent."_

_Edmund set his jaw. He couldn't bring himself to recall any tournament he had agreed upon to fight. He soon found that he could not seem to speak either. Perhaps it was from the large amount of adrenaline, now coursing through his body, tensing his muscles for the fight._

_The faun made his way behind the king to a simple wooden cot, on which lay Edmund's sheathed sword, "Here, Your Majesty. Prepare yourself," said the guard and Edmund gripped the hilt of the blade and pulled at it with trained ease. Edmund stared down at his sword and wielded it skillfully to warm up his arm. The faun had laid the sheath back onto the cot and walked forth to slightly pull back the flap of the tent that led out to the courtyard. The cheers grew louder as he looked and he grinned most enthusiastically, "King Edmund, she cometh."_

_Edmund froze, resting his blade on his forearm. _She?

_The faun clopped back to his king and bowed so low that Edmund thought he was to kiss the ground, "May good fortune smile upon thee, my liege."_

_Edmund watched strangely as the guard walked through another flap and out the tent. A horn blew from outside, signaling the start of the fight. Edmund gripped the hilt of his sword, feeling a strange contraction in the pit of his stomach. Growling he thought, _Ignore it.

_And ignore it, he did. The king exited the tent and stepped onto the courtyard and instantly felt the hot sun at its peak bear down on the weight of his armor. Edmund hissed and squinted, his eyes proving no match for the bright colored grounds of the courtyard. But as he adjusted to the sight of it, the king looked at the onlookers and started at the Narnians loyal, and Followers, cheering and jeering down at him. Edmund swallowed and looked before him, for striding forth was Jadis, Empress and White Witch, a single thin blade in her hand. She wore her black chain mail dress, with its Lion's mane collar. Edmund cringed at the very thought of how the collar had been made and anger wove its way into his good heart. _

"_Edmund, dear," Jadis said smoothly, "I've missed you."_

_At the next signal of the horn, Jadis swung her blade forward in a motion that took Edmund by surprise. He slipped away just in time and blocked another blow to his head. He strained against the witch's strength, his muscles burning at the very pressure of defense. _

_Edmund swiveled around and slid his blade across the witch's. Jadis staggered forward and faced him, sword raised over her head, calculating her opponent's every move. Edmund walked around apprehensively, sword at the ready. Jadis growled and sent her blade forward again. _

_The fight was long and hot, and Edmund soon realized that he wore no helmet, leaving the entirety of his head unprotected. He bared his teeth in frustration, feeling the heat of the sun wearing him down. The cheers of his people began to die, and the jeers of those against him grew stronger. Edmund roared as he attempted to strike the witch, only to find his blade missing its desired target. Jadis made to disarm him, locking her sheath on his own and twisting it in such a manner that would have dislocated his arm, were it not for the king's agility. Edmund maneuvered and again faced the witch only to be met with the hilt of the enemy blade strike him hard on his cheekbone. Edmund shut his eyes and cursed and staggered back, a bloody bruise slowly forming on his face. Distracted and weary, Edmund was not prepared for what happened next. _

_He could feel the cold metal slice brutally through his tunic and into his flesh, drawing blood to mix with the color of Narnian scarlet. Edmund cried out, the burning slash across his torso running long and deep. Falling to his knees and silently begging for respite, Jadis grabbed the king by his neck and forced him to his feet, "Suffering, Son of Adam?" she said loudly, triumph evident in her voice. The sounds around Edmund were now soft and muffled, thinning into the distance. His dark eyes dulled in exhaustion as he stared into those of the witch. She smiled and laughed demonically. Edmund presently felt great pain, feeding on him to his very soul, his wounds, his heart, his entire body. Edmund screamed._

_He felt a strong jolt as he was thrown against an unusually cold stonewall. Edmund grunted and felt himself fall onto the icy floor, his chain mail making the faintest sound. _

_Sound._

_No sound. There were no cheers or shouts or yells or screams. There was no witch's cry. There was no hint of metal against metal, sword against sword. The silence was deafening and thick in the king's ears, as if Edmund had lost that sense of his body._

_Edmund groaned heavily and pulled himself up on his hands and knees, staring weakly at the blue ground beneath. _Blue?

_Forgetting his wounds, Edmund blew out his breath and a ghostly white mist came produced by his mouth. The young king scrambled to his feet and looked up. The great ceiling of glacier-like ice stretched overhead. He knew where he was, for this was the very place he was imprisoned in only three years ago as a young boy._

_Edmund bit his lip to keep from crying out, and he bit down until he tasted blood. His blood. Edmund walked back until his hands came in touch with something cold other than ice. He looked down to see black and rusty shackles hanging unused on the wall. Edmund swallowed down, forcing back the bile that threatened to come forth his mouth._

_The king tiredly sagged to the ground and leaned against the wall for support, again beginning to feel the gash on his body. _The next cell,_ he thought. Edmund frowned thoughtfully and looked to his right. The once wall of ice that separated his cell from another had a large and gaping hole with only broken iron bars to patch it up slightly. Edmund shivered and realization dawned on him. Slowly, he made his way to the wall and called out in a hesitant whisper, "Mr. Tumnus?"_

_He waited and there came no reply._

"_Mr. Tumnus, it's me, Edmund," a little louder this time. Still no reply. Edmund closed his mouth in a tight line, the freezing temperature of the prison taunting his teeth to chatter. He knelt by the iron bars and looked over it to see a hunched figure just below, cloaked in black and lying on the ice, curled up. Edmund froze at the sight of the auburn hair of the being. Her waves in a tangle and dried up bloody mess. He reached out and gently brushed the hair off of the girl's face, whispering helplessly, "Eleanor?"_

_The girl made no flinch, nor sound and remained lifeless on the icy ground. Edmund felt his heart race wildly in his chest. He stroked Eleanor's pale face with a gentle hand, "So cold…" said he, his fingers coming to contact with Eleanor's deathly pale skin. Edmund scowled as he slowly began to make out bruises and fresh cuts on the princess's face. He clenched his fist and hissed out a breath, anger at the witch never ignored. Edmund then wanted- _needed_ Eleanor to awake as soon as possible._

"_Please wake up," said he, as gently as he could and he drew in a shaky breath. And, as if she had heard, Eleanor's grey eyes snapped widely to life. Edmund jerked in his position, but continued to gently stroke her head, brushing away the few strands of hair that disturbed her face._

_Eleanor slowly looked up, her grey eyes returning to its normal size and filling with fresh tears at the sight of Edmund. Carefully, she raised herself from the floor until she half lay and half sat. She opened her mouth to speak, and Edmund was unprepared for what reached his ears._

"_How could you?"_

_The king's hand froze in place, ending the gentle strokes it did on the cuts on Eleanor's pale cheek, "W-what?" he stuttered. Eleanor shook her head and the first streams of tears began its course, "Edmund," she whimpered, "What have you done?"_

_Edmund noticed the rest of Eleanor's wounds now. Around her neck was a reddish line, as if a thin chain had been torn against her skin. Her hands, which she had now used to grip the iron bars for support, had more cuts similar to those on her face. Edmund's dark eyes dulled with pain at the very sight of them and he met Eleanor's grey stare, "Tell me, Eleanor," he said softly, "What have I wronged you with?"_

_Eleanor tilted her head to one side and answered matter-of-factly, "You killed my family," she said. Edmund withdrew his hand, stunned by her words. But Eleanor's speech wasn't finished. Her voice was so frail, so delicate that Edmund wanted so much to hush her and console her, "You went for mama, and papa," she continued, "And that wasn't enough," Eleanor's face crumpled in sorrow, "You took away from me Mathilda, and Ludwig," tears streamed down her face and Eleanor's next words were accompanied by a sob, "And that still was not enough to satisfy thy bloodlust. You took from me, my home, my kingdom," pause and a whisper, "Borovia."_

_Edmund had shaken his head in disbelief, both in shock and in outrage at what fallacy Jadis had obviously told the poor girl, "Eleanor," he whispered back, feeling just as weak as the girl before him, "I n-never did," said he, "I didn't…I swear- I'm s-so sorry."_

_At that moment the prison gates of the stairwell opened and Eleanor fell to the ground again, left to her sorrows. Edmund tried to scramble away just as the White Witch took her last step and into the main prison. She greeted Edmund and smiled wickedly, "Comfortable, my king?"_

_Edmund got up and reached for the hilt of his sword, only to find that he had none. His hand gripped the air just beside his hip and met no weapon's form. Jadis laughed gloriously, "You cannot fight me, Son of Adam," said she, "You've wasted away."_

_Edmund growled and shouted, anger eating him out, "What have you done to her?"_

_Jadis raised her eyebrows, "The Borovian traitor?"_

_Edmund hissed and said threateningly, "She is no traitor."  
"Is she not?" Jadis challenged and met the king's glare with her own of hatred and spite, "She pledged her loyalty to me-"_

"_Under your bewitchment!"__  
__"And has _no_ drop of innocent blood in her veins!" Jadis retorted, eyes flashing. Then, a wave of calm passed over her face and she strode forward, backing Edmund into the wall, "Just like you."_

_Edmund stood, stung by the words that left the witch's mouth and rolled off of her tongue so smoothly as if it were so simple to comprehend. Edmund's mind swam with memories of his dark past. He was a traitor, forever in the service of the dark Empress Jadis. He killed his own family through his words, selling them like merchandise in the market to a very wealthy dealer to be paid with Turkish Delight. _

_But there was hope after all of that. The Great Lion Aslan had led him to his salvation and loved him unconditionally. He gave up his life and-_

_Edmund let out a long and agonized scream, the sensation of the pain in his wound heightened by Jadis's dark art. Edmund doubled over to the ground, groping at his bloody tunic. He remembered bitterly at whose mercy he was at right now. _

_Jadis grabbed a handful of Edmund's dark hair from the back of his head and pulled back at it furiously to force the king to look up, "You are _nothing_ but a traitor, my slave, and my Follower. From the very beginning, you pledged your loyalty to me, even without my force! You sold your family, and _yourself_ to me. Freely."_

_Edmund's eyes filled with hot tears and he bit his lip again to keep from screaming any more. His eyes darted to the gap of his cell and he caught Eleanor staring at him with terror etched delicately over her features. Edmund mouthed 'I'm sorry, my princess.' And again he met his pain. His blood seeped into his tunic. He gasped, desperate to end this unbearable mar._

"Edmund!"

Susan struggled to keep her voice calm, trying to call her brother awake. He gasped and curled up under the sheets, grabbing at his body as if he were in pain. "Make it stop!" he begged loudly, eyes still tightly closed, "Please, make it stop!"

Susan hushed him gently, pressing her fingers into his dark and damp hair, "Edmund," she tried again, "Edmund, wake up!"

Edmund froze with one last gasp and his dark eyes flew open. In haste, he sat up and began looking around wildly, searching in the dimly lit room for something unknown to Susan, "Ed?" she asked softly, "Edmund, it's all right. I'm here."

Edmund's eyes fell on his sister and a look of relief spread quickly over his pale face, "Susan?"

Susan smiled kindly and pulled her brother close, letting his head rest on her shoulder, "It's all right, Edmund," she soothed.

Edmund buried his head in his sister's hair, breathing in that familiar scent of Narnian flowers that calmed him, soothed him, hushed him. Susan continued to rock him back and forth, just like when Edmund was just a little boy before the war back home. In moments, Edmund's breathing deepened and Susan was wondering if he had already fallen asleep when he pulled away, "What are you doing here?" he asked uncertainly.

Susan chuckled weakly, "Ed, Peter told me about your dreams over supper."

Edmund stared at her, a little hint of irritation projected towards the eldest Pevensie. _I thought he didn't want to worry her?_ he thought annoyed.

"Edmund, please don't be angry. He's only concerned, and so am I." Susan said, as if reading Edmund's mind. Her brother wasn't the kind who wanted people fussing over him in anyway, after all.

Edmund nodded and smiled weakly, "S'all right, Su," he said quietly and looked down at the pool of moonlight streaming on the floors of his quarters, "I'm glad you came anyway."

Susan noticed the fear in the statement and asked carefully, "What happened, Ed?"

"Peter didn't tell you?" Edmund raised his eyebrows. Susan shook her head, "Nay. He just told me you've been bothered."

Edmund furrowed his brow and wiped his face with his sleeve, only noticing the cold sweat drying up and giving him shivers, "I'm not sure," he said, "It's always about Jadis-"

"Oh, Edmund!" Susan exclaimed, concerned for her brother. _Even when she's dead she manages to haunt him,_ she thought bitterly. Edmund smiled tiredly at his sister, assuring her not to worry, "And Eleanor."

"I beg your pardon?"

Edmund cringed inwardly at the memory of the princess in his dreams: tortured, hurt, worn and beaten, both inside and out. The tears that streamed down her scarred face were fresher in memory than they ever were. Her frail voice still rang in his ears, accusing him for what he had supposedly done. Murder. Edmund sighed and looked back at Susan, "She's hurting, Su," he said quietly, "I can feel it."

Susan shifted on the edge of the bed, "Edmund," she said, "Peter said something about this being instigated by magic."

Edmund smirked and mock glared at his sister, "I thought you told me that he only mentioned my being 'bothered'?"

Susan huffed, "Edmund, be serious!"

The young king only laughed and his face fell again after that, "I honestly don't know if it is magic or not, but I have to admit," he paused, "It certainly feels like it is."

Susan bit her lip, "We can't even tell the magicians," she whispered helplessly.

"No. We can't," Edmund added firmly, "But something tells me I have to let these dreams continue their course."  
"Edmund!" Susan protested, "Have you gone mad?"

Edmund shook his head and looked his worried sister in the eye, "I just think it's the right thing to do. At least for now."

Susan met her brother's gaze and saw the truth in his words. She knew that he wouldn't make decisions without thinking them over first. Then she thought of the Lion. Aslan _must _know something about these dreams, and if He did, then He would have good reason to let them run through. Whatever the reason, however Susan trusted Him, "Alright, Ed," she smiled, "I suppose you aren't King Edmund the Just for nothing."

Edmund chuckled at the statement, honored by his sister's words, "I guess not," he teased, "Now, I don't want you worrying so much, alright?"

Susan sighed, "That's a bit of a challenge, don't you think?"

"I can only imagine," the brother grinned. Susan huffed again and glared mockingly at her sibling, "You're my little brother!"

"I know," Edmund said matter-of-factly, "And might I say, you take care of me very well, but there _are_ a good number of things I believe I can handle on my own."

Susan rolled her eyes and smiled, "Fine, then," said she, "What about going back to bed?"

Edmund raised his eyebrows, "And what if I don't?"

"I'll personally bring up some warm milk for you."

"Susan," Edmund said calmly, "I don't suppose you've noticed that I am presently _seventeen_ and not _seven,_ right?"

Susan laughed melodically at the look on her brother's face and covered her smiling mouth with the palm of her hand, observing the true decency of a gentle queen. Edmund chuckled, "I'll get you for that."

Susan stood up and smiled down at her brother, "Just some water, then," said she, "But if you can, Edmund, I would very much prefer it if you can get some sleep, alright?"

Edmund smiled and nodded. Susan bent down and kissed his forehead, "Good night then, brother," she whispered.

"Thanks, Susan," came the reply.

Susan walked quietly to the door and stepped out to the hallway, closing the door behind her with only the slightest sound of the latch.

Edmund sank back under the sheets and furrowed his brow in deep thought. _You're hurting Eleanor,_ he thought, _I can hear you plead._

And with that as his final thought for the time being, the king closed his eyes in exhaustion and waited for the invitation of sleep to take to him.

Susan descended the staircase and looked around. Cair Paravel was very different at night, but still managed to keep up its warm and friendly air, and as her personal opinion, very romantic. Susan smiled and she looked across the floor to see shadows casting across the path interrupted by shots of moonlight coming from windows and great doors.

_Edmund knows what he's doing,_ she thought to herself, still mulling over what her brother had said, _Aslan help him._ Susan stopped for a moment and furrowed her brow, "Everything is so strange about Narnia," she found herself whispering, then giggled silently, "Well, Narnia _is _a magical land, Susan. You'll never know what you'll find."

And with that queen continued her way when she ran into the night guard, a Faun who looked very much surprised to see the queen up and about at this time of the evening, "Queen Susan," he said and bowed deeply, hand on the hilt of his sheathed sword, "Is there anything I can do for you, Your Majesty?"

Susan smiled kindly and shook her head, "Nay, Good faun," said she, "King Edmund just needs a drink of water."

The guard raised his eyebrows and said quickly, "If that be so, Queen Susan, is His Majesty ill? Shall I call for a healer?"

"Nay, not this time, Good faun," Susan shook her head in emphasis. The guard bowed again, "Yes, Your Majesty."

Susan dismissed herself and continued her way down the staircase. She could never get used to how much respect she and her siblings had gained from the Narnians in a short period of time. Especially since Edmund had once turned traitor towards them. _But that is past,_ Susan thought, recalling the words of the Lion. _He is very different now._ The queen smiled as an image of her brother crossed her mind, _Seventeen or not, Ed; you'll always be my baby brother._ And so Susan went, continuing to let her thoughts run about by how her brothers were well respected all throughout the Empire, and how allies like Archenland continued their support for Narnia.

Finally, Susan found herself crossing the Dining Hall towards the doors leading to the kitchens. It wasn't the first time she did this, for even in the past, especially when Peter, Lucy or Edmund would fall ill, she would come down at night to get them water or fruit or anything of the sort she could find to make her siblings comfortable. Little did she know exactly how much the other Pevensies loved her for loving them to that extent. (I could probably tell you how much they loved her, but their love is so great, it's impossible to put it in words. In fact, _great love_ would be an understatement.)

Susan opened the large doors to the kitchens and looked to retrieve a simple goblet from the great shelves lining a wall. After this, she went on near the great window where there was a ready jug of water sitting just at the shadows. Susan poured the water into the goblet and looked out the window, admiring the effect of the stars on the sky and the dimly lit grounds outside. But something different caught her eye, and it sent a good deal of shivers down her spine. The queen froze as she watched a large dark figure hastily making its way down the path towards the back of Cair Paravel. Based on its direction, it was as if it was _returning_ to the castle.

Susan narrowed her eyes, trying to make out the face under the hood of the cloak, but failing miserably. The figure slowed to a complete stop and faced her, and Susan could have yelped. She swallowed down the urge and continued to stare. Presently the hand holding the goblet felt very cold and wet and Susan jumped. Hurriedly, she set down both the jug and goblet and hurriedly wiped her hand on the skirts of her nightgown. She looked up and out the window again and cringed. The figure was gone.

"Impossible," she whispered to herself. The window was vast, if the figure was running, she would still be seeing it hobbling away. There was a still a great stretch of path to be seen and the queen was very sure she had not let her sight leave it for too long. Still, no matter where she looked, even leaning close to the glass and standing on her toes, Susan saw nothing.

"It must be me," she chided herself uncertainly and remembered Edmund might still be waiting for her. Quickly, she cleaned up the spilled water and took the goblet. She glanced a final time out the window, shook her head and left the kitchens.

"And where will you be heading this fine morning, Lucy?" Peter asked over breakfast. Lucy grinned from her seat and looked at Edmund, "Well…"

Edmund smiled, "Don't look to me, Lu. You're the one who wanted to go riding today."

Lucy's face lit up in sheer delight, "What about the plains?"

"And what doth the High King say?" Edmund addressed his brother. Peter laughed, "Don't go too far and be back well before noon," he reminded, "Ed, we have letters from Calormen."

Edmund nodded reassuringly and returned to his breakfast. Susan smiled, "Who will you be taking as your horse, Lucy?"

Lucy looked thoughtful, "Would Darcy mind, do you think?"

Susan cocked her head, "A Talking Horse?" she asked, "Will it be all right?"

Eleanor looked strangely at Susan, unsure of why a Talking Horse would be so wrong to take. Edmund caught her look, "Don't worry, Su," he said, "I'll be taking Phillip, and Eleanor will be with Thistleberry. Darcy could use a good ride out on the plains."

"Oh, delightful," Susan smiled at Eleanor, "You'll be taught by one of the best mares of Narnia."

Eleanor smiled uncertainly, "I'm sorry, Susan. But I don't think I quite understand why you were questioning taking a Talking Horse."

"Talking Horses are rarely ridden on casual days here in Narnia," Edmund offered, "That's because they are considered very important in society."

Eleanor then looked anxious, "And Thistleberry won't mind? I mean," Eleanor paused, "Well, I'm not really Narnian myself."

Peter chuckled good-naturedly, "You're part of the Empire nonetheless."

"Don't worry, Eleanor," Lucy grinned, "Thistleberry is an excellent trainer, and you'll be riding regular horses soon enough, if that's any comfort to you."

Edmund watched Eleanor closely for a while. He wasn't sure if the others noticed and were just keeping quiet about it, but Eleanor looked very much tired. Her eyes were ever so slightly swollen, like after crying for a bit, and her skin just lightly pale. Edmund furrowed his brow in thought. _I wonder if she has any nightmares herself,_ he pondered, _And if she does, how by the Lion does she cope?_

Edmund cleared his throat and turned to Peter, "Do we have anything else to attend to besides Calormenes and councils today?"

Peter smiled wickedly at his brother, "What about that spar?"

Edmund returned the grin, "Well, what about it?"

Susan sighed, "Here we go…"

Lucy giggled and her bright brown eyes shifted from each of the three siblings: a mother-like glaring Susan, a challenging blue-eyed Peter, and a mischievous full-of-game Edmund. Eleanor watched thoughtfully the staring contest of the two kings while Peter continued talking, "Since we don't have lessons scheduled for today," Peter said, "Perhaps a little tournament to get you going?"

"Why are you worried about me?" Edmund taunted meanly, "You're the one who failed our last dispute."

"Oh, rubbing it in, are we?" Peter laughed.

Susan glared warningly at her brothers, "If you two go on about trees again, I'll—Well, I don't know what I'll do!"

Edmund winked, "If it's any comfort," he said, "We'll do it on the courtyard."

Peter raised his eyebrows, "Fine by me."

Lucy clapped her hands, "Oh, what fun!" she grinned. She enjoyed it when her brother's sparred. They were excellent at it. And every time Cair Paravel held tournaments, the kings never ceased to awe the crowd with complex maneuvers, sharp techniques, and a grand finish whether or not they won or lost.

Eleanor smiled. She had heard of these tournaments from the Beavers, and in fact she had chanced upon some books in the dam and in the Secondary Library regarding sword matches and when and how they were held. It was considered a great sport among royalty. Then again, her face fell.

Ludwig, according to Mr. Beaver, had sparred the witch all by himself, a feat that was considered a fool's attempt. But be that as it may, Eleanor's heart welled with pride for a brother she never really knew. He had stood up for his country, while she fled. Eleanor felt a pang of guilt. Why hadn't she fought back in the first place? Then she could have joined her brother and sister and parents in an eternal glory, rather than be _left behind_. Eleanor huffed inwardly.

_Hush, Eleanor._

Eleanor sat up. That voice.

"Well then!" Lucy's voice broke into the princess's thoughts, "Now that we're all done with our meals, why don't we get ready for the ride?"

Eleanor swallowed, shaken by the strange and haunting voice.

"Is everything all right, Lady?" Edmund asked carefully. Eleanor caught his gaze, that dark and sympathetic gaze that seemed to understand, to be aware, to know so many things. Eleanor returned that gaze with the blank one of her own and she replied softly, "Yes."

Eleanor hurriedly ascended the staircase to the direction of her quarters and leaned against the wall, "Oh, Eleanor," she whispered, "If you'll stop thinking so much, then maybe you won't be haunted by…" Eleanor fell from speech, unsure of what to say, "Anything."

She continued her way until she came to the door. Svéda was right outside, "Good morning again, mistress," she greeted with her bright smile, "How was your meal?"

Eleanor nodded and smiled kindly, "Very well, thank you." She never understood how Cair Paravel's servants managed to transport themselves from one area of the castle to another so quickly just like Svéda. She reckoned that perhaps there were certain passages and access hallways for them to use.

Svéda held the door open for Eleanor and said, "And what is it you would like to do now, mistress?"

Eleanor entered the room and walked to the wardrobe, pulling out the riding dress and cloak, "Queen Lucy and King Edmund have invited me to go out riding with them," she replied and turned to the naiad, "Please help me," she smiled nervously.

Svéda chimed laughter, "I'm sure a lady like you would make a fine horsewoman, mistress," said she, "Your mother taught you how to ride?"

Eleanor opened her mouth to speak while Svéda helped her undress when she remembered that no Narnian at the moment knew of her origins, "Oh, I…" Eleanor raked her brain for an answer, "I do have an older sister, who would take me out on trails once in a while."

"Ah!" Svéda said brightly and prepared the riding dress in her arms, "Which trails, Your Ladyship?"

Eleanor swallowed. Had she gotten herself into a mess now. Which trails? The princess replied with the only answer she could think of, "The Western Woods."

Svéda held up the dress before her and stopped her errand for a moment, "The Western Woods, Your Ladyship?"

Eleanor nodded and smiled, struggling to keep her face calm, "Yes, I come from…" Eleanor's mind raced and she recalled what Mr. Beaver taught her about Narnia's geography just before she ran away, "Lantern Waste," she continued confidently, "Up north."

Svéda looked at her for a moment and a smooth smile played on the naiad's lips, "I see," she said slowly and helped Eleanor into the riding dress, tying the ribbons at the back.

"Let's tie your hair, Your Ladyship," she said after a while, "'Tis not wise to have one's hair lose while riding out."

Eleanor smiled kindly, relieved that Svéda had not pressed on about her country, "It's all right, Svéda. I can take care of it-"

"Now, now. I insist, mistress," Svéda said and seated Eleanor in front of the vanity, "I am quite sure Queen Lucy is doing the same thing right this moment," smiled knowingly, "And this won't take long."

Eleanor sighed and played with the pendant of her necklace again. She bit her lip and was about to begin another conversation when she looked to the mirror and nearly jumped ten feet in the air. Eleanor's eyes widened. _Svéda was no longer the one doing her hair, rather it was a fair-skinned maidservant dressed in a beautiful dress of cotton creams and deep reds. Her hair was tied back in a neat braid and she wore a necklace identical to Eleanor's around her neck. She smiled at the princess through the mirror and laughed musically when she was done, combing the last strands of her hair back, "Well," said she, "They don't call me Maidservant Maria of Hair for nothing, do they, Eleanor?"_

_As she laughed, Eleanor realized it was meant to be a jest, as if it was a jest she had been making for a long time now. But Eleanor didn't find it funny. The name Maria was dreadfully familiar…_

"Mistress," Svéda's voice broke in. Eleanor blinked and shook her head, "Oh," she mumbled unconsciously.

"Mistress," Svéda said quickly, "Is everything all right?"

Eleanor suddenly stood up and said hastily, "Yes, Svéda. Everything is fine. Thank you," she breathed and strode to the bed to get her cloak. Svéda watched as Eleanor moved and just as the princess was about to reach for the door, she said, "You know, milady," she smiled strangely, "That's a beautiful necklace you have around your neck."

Eleanor slowly turned to face the naiad and she smiled solemnly, "Thank you, Svéda," she said carefully, "My…mother gave it to me when I was little," she said. And as an afterthought added, _How I wish that were true._

"Oh, it sounds very special, Your Ladyship," Svéda nodded, "Wouldn't you like to leave it in the jewelry box instead?"

Eleanor furrowed her brow in thought, "Why ever, Svéda?"

"Riding can be very tricky, Your Ladyship," the naiad pointed out with another chime of laughter, "You might lose it while bouncing on the saddle."

Eleanor gave it some thought but shook her head, "No, thank you, Svéda. That won't be necessary."

"But, mistress-"

"Svéda," Eleanor said and stared at the naiad, baffled by the naiad's insistent behavior, "I have ridden with this necklace before," she lied, "Now, if you'll excuse me. I have to meet the monarchs."

"Of course, milady," Svéda said and curtsied, "Forgive me."

Eleanor nodded, "It's all right," she said softly and promptly left her quarters.

**Author's Note: **Thus ends the sixth chapter of the trilogy :) Please review/let me know if you have anything to say (good or bad) about this chapter.

I can't wait to get the next one up for you guys. I hope you continue on with this Borovian quest of ours. There is so much more you need to know about this now forgotten country…

Spooky. Lol! Kidding.

Thanks for reading!


	8. Chapter 7: Gilded Necromancy

**Author's Note:** (Ah, _finally,_ vrangr! Took you long enough!)

Chapter seven is _Gilded Necromancy,_ inspired by Eleanor's necklace, meaning _Golden Sorcery_.

I hope you guys enjoy it! :D Sorry for the wait!

**Chapter 7: Gilded Necromancy**

Lucy presently galloped after her brother, attempting to tag him. Edmund veered to the left and smiled wickedly, cantering another way off , "Come on, Lucy!" he challenged, "Faster!"

The young queen giggled as Darcy pranced excitedly in place, tossing her mane. The siblings have been playing Tag for nigh an hour while Eleanor and Thistleberry rode on their own a little way off. At the moment, Lucy was 'it' and she was trying to catch up to her brother.

"Darcy," she said quickly, "Fall back. I do have an idea."

The mare nodded and cantered around Edmund and Phillip.

Phillip snorted, "They'll perhaps try to do that last maneuver again, but with a different approach."

Edmund chuckled, amused by how well Phillip could calculate the opponent's next move even when not on the battlefield; and the stallion had also proven this skill during the many past campaigns across the Empire. The king trotted round and smiled fondly at Lucy as she was exchanging her words with Darcy, "Let's give in, Phillip," he said, "She's been 'it' long enough."

Phillip hummed, aware that Edmund wanted to give his sister a chance to win the game, "Entrust the way to me."

"Very well."

Edmund sat skillfully in the saddle and watched as Lucy turned Darcy sharply towards his direction, a broad grin on her face. Edmund laughed and Phillip made to dodge when Lucy had already gotten close enough to just brush her brother's arm, "I've got you!" she yelled triumphantly and continued past. Edmund beamed, "Hey, you, get back here!"

Lucy smiled with the same amount of wickedness as Edmund had earlier on, "Catch me first, Ed!"

Eleanor cantered in a circle, occasionally glancing at the king and queen playing their game. She smiled at the familiarity of the play and Thistleberry broke into her thoughts, "Very good," said she, "Now, ask me to halt and do what I told you to do last time."

The princess nodded and sat deeply in the saddle, steadily pulling on the reins until the mare had gradually come to a halt. "Excellent!" Thistleberry nodded and nudged her rider's stirrup. "You have a natural skill on the saddle, little one."

Eleanor laughed lightly, "Or perhaps I have a good teacher," she returned.

"Oh, you flatter me," the mare replied with a modest bow of her head, in a voice that the rider now saw fit to call 'kind.' But had she known of a motherly tone, then, perhaps that would have made a better alternative. The mare pricked her ears forward while Eleanor brushed her soft mane with her fingers, "Oh, look," said she, "The King Edmund seems to be 'it' this time," Thistleberry commented, and in a low voice added, "Come on, Phillip. Faster…"

Eleanor cocked her head slowly to one side and stared strangely at the game. "It does look fun," she said slowly as if recalling a time of long ago. She watched Edmund canter Phillip in a steady gait, one hand holding the reins, and the other reaching for Lucy.

_A wind picked up and tousled Eleanor's waves around her shoulders, whispering in her ear and bringing forth scents of Pine from the Borovian border. She smiled as she sat leisurely in the saddle, watching her two older siblings, Ludwig and Mathilda playing Tag on their steeds._

"_Mida!" Ludwig laughed and called out his sister's nickname._

_Mathilda laughed back, doubling over her horse's withers, her deep auburn hair hiding her eyes momentarily, "Évansk tü vréna brélovich fra prövenn, Ludi?" she retorted playfully._

_Ludwig's jaw fell to the ground, _"Ludi?"_ he yelled and laughed again, galloping after his sister, "Vénska esk nomprövenn!" he teased as he chased a giggling Mathilda and tried to grab hold of her horse's reins, "Növerda fra vansk tü vranovîch Eleanor-sîthénna!"_

_Mathilda halted and wagged a finger mockingly at her brother, "Oh, Eleanor-sîthénna?" she said sarcastically, "_Ludwig_-bröthenna _hégrilo_ tü nomvranovîch fra Eleanor-sîthénna?"_

_Ludwig stuck out his tongue, "Tü pleviska," he said matter-of-factly and turned in his saddle to face his youngest sister, his dark eyes filling with delight. Eleanor smiled at him as he shouted back, "Sé élovre venska, nomsîthénna!" and blew her a loving kiss. _

_With that, Ludwig yelled at an exaggeratedly gagging Mathilda, "Svordîbrevann!" and galloped after her._

_Sé elovre venska._ Eleanor's hand flew sharply to her mouth, grey eyes widening with instinctive comprehension. _I love you._ Thistleberry, being like any horse with a sharp sense for a rider's reflexes, nudged the stirrup, "Eleanor?"

Eleanor shut her eyes tightly and opened them again. She looked to see Edmund and Lucy still playing their game, the older brother galloping after his younger sister. The image of Ludwig and Mathilda faded until it only reached her mind's eye. Eleanor held her breath. What she saw was clearer than any nightmare she had dreamt; and more vivid and defined, and stronger in its nature. Thus, it left her feeling greatly vexed.

_It's nothing, Eleanor,_ Eleanor told herself willfully, her subconscious still clearly seeing the dark hazel eyes of her brother, _Just games of the mind. That is all._

"Little one?"  
Eleanor looked down at the mare's head that was bent back near the right stirrup, "Nothing, Thistleberry," she said firmly, "I just thought I…saw something."

Thistleberry remained silent, unsure of what to make of the statement. She quickly recalled what Susan had told her nights ago, that the princess had come from a life in the Western Woods of Narnia, which was considered fairly difficult especially during the time of the Witch's reign. But the good horse was also aware that Eleanor might have discordances of within, much like Edmund when he had first become king and was unsure if he was ready to rule a country he had once betrayed. Thistleberry snorted thoughtfully as she remembered the times she offered consolation to the boy monarch. She could certainly do the same for Eleanor, "Little one," said she reproachfully, "If you see fit to talk to anyone, you can always come to me."

"I'll remember that, Thistleberry," Eleanor said gratefully and furrowed her brow in thought, staring at Edmund and Lucy as they rode skillfully in circles.

Peter leaned back in his seat, looking over a letter from the Calormene courts regarding their interest in making possible allegiance with Narnia. He furrowed his brow as he recalled the time when he and Edmund held a campaign across the Empire. One of the destinations had been Tashbaan, and quite frankly, Peter didn't very much find the people in general to be so friendly. The dark skinned population of Calormen had apparently been addressing the northern population of the Empire as the 'barbarian kings and queens.' At first it had been quite an insult, and despite Peter's own reaction to the term, he had struggled to control his younger brother before he unsheathed his blade for the sake of intimidation against a mocking street vendor.

The High King lowered the letter and smiled, staring into space as the memory flooded in.

"_Look out, make way for the barbarians of the far north!"_

_Edmund grunted as he walked aside Peter ahead of the Narnian procession on foot, Phillip's reins held tightly in his right hand. Riding was being proven hot for the horses, for to have a saddle and bridle on with a rider to top it all can be very stuffy. _

"_I say, since when did we even _become_ barbarians?" Edmund asked with annoyed hint in his tired voice. It had been two years since he and his siblings had been crowned for Narnia, and they had long begun campaigns to neighboring lands. At present they were making their way to the Tisroc's Palace, and a large crowd had gathered to watch the strange sight of fair skinned men and women, and unusual creatures with goats' legs, and horse's bodies, and some with the tinted skin of green and brown; dryads, they heard from rumors._

_Peter gritted his teeth, trying hard to keep a casual expression on his face for the sake of his title as High King, "Don't worry, Ed. I'm sure it means something different."_

_The brothers fell into silence when a third voice spoke up, "It's too tight, Edmund," it said. Edmund looked to Phillip and loosened his grip on the reins, "Oh, sorry," Edmund said, his ears turning a slight shade of pink, "Just a little tense."_

_Phillip snorted in acknowledgement._

"_Ho, there! White kings of Narnia," called a street vendor and clapped his hands, a young child by his side, his dark eyes wide at the presence of the Narnians._

"_Too little sun up north, Your Majesties?"_

_Edmund froze and set his jaw, his piercing gaze darting to the direction of the vendor. The child flinched and scurried off into the crowd._

"_Ignore it," Phillip coached gently, aware of the rising frustration of his friend as he unconsciously tightened his hold on the reins again._

"_Tell, Your Majesty," said the vendor again, aware that the dark haired king had stopped his walk, "Why are you so fair skinned like the others, but your hair and eyes are as dark as ours?"_

_Edmund growled under his breath and muttered, "I am _not _like you."_

"_Peace, King Edmund!" Peter said quickly as his brother's hand rested on the hilt of his sword, "This is an honest man."_

_The vendor stared wildly at Edmund's present position, squared shoulders, tensed muscles and flashing eyes. The Calormene bowed, ashamed._

_Peter looked back to his brother, "Remember that not everyone is educated in language here," he said with gentle stern, and to the rest of the procession, "Walk on."_

_Edmund's ears again turned pink, and in a more defined shade than before. Phillip nudged his leg gently, "Peace, friend."_

_Edmund smiled._

Peter grinned widely at the memory. Trust Edmund to be defensive of what others say about Narnia and himself.

A knock sounded on the door of the High King's study. Peter shifted in the chair and straightened up, "Enter."

A faun page came in almost at once and clopped his hooves on the wooden flooring as he walked inside, "Sire, a letter from Anvard arrived just moments ago."

Peter's blue eyes lit up with interest as the page walked further in and handed the king a crisp envelope.

"Delivered by Brightfeather, Sire."

The High King smiled, "Thank you. Be on your way."

"With a good will, Your Majesty," the page smiled back and bowed, and left his liege to his work.

Peter leaned back in his seat again and opened the envelope, eager to read what news the jovial monarch of Archenland brought for Narnia.

So it read:

_In Address to: The High King Peter, King Edmund, Queen Susan, and Queen Lucy of Cair Paravel_

_Good day unto you, Your Majesties. It is my hope that this letter finds you in good health._

_Firstly, I would like to let you know that King Edmund's reply to my previous letter arrived safely here in my hands. Might also take this time to commend King Edmund's prompt reply. _

_Secondly, I have written to let you know that my son, the young Prince Corin of Archenland is once again very eager to meet Your Excellencies. He remembers you all from our last winter visit and has begged me to write again, so that maybe we may see each other. (And I say, he is getting to be quite a handful with his insistence.)_

Peter chuckled. Knowing exactly what King Lune meant. The young sprightly prince had such talent to get on anyone's nerves unintentionally. And anyone could be from Corin's own people all the way to Edmund himself; which, again, Peter found amusing, although he knew that the only reason why Edmund was the way he was with the boy prince, it would be because he was quite the brother figure. Peter had teased him about being just as 'destructive' as when he was a young boy, and the dark haired king accordingly told him to 'shut up.'

_I hope this news is not so much of an alarm to you, Your Majesties. We shall only visit if and when you see fit. Apparently Corin very much misses younger people, and younger people is something we don't have around the castle. His nurse is already tried with her patience. I suppose I am not as young as he wants me to be. Ho ho! Well, I am his father._

_Here, Kings and Queens of Narnia, I suppose I have made my point. Do take your time in replying. After all, aren't we all busy with our own business? Good day to you all._

_Forever in the Name of the Lion,_

_King Lune of Anvard_

Peter hummed easily. He was most certain that his siblings would love to have the company of the Archenlanders again, but now they had to consider Eleanor's presence as well. _We'll have to talk about that, _Peter thought as he laid the letter on the table. A smile crept on his lips. It was a tradition that had existed between Narnia and Archenland even before the Pevensies had become monarchy. Archenland was the closest ally to Narnia and therefore the countries would have visits exchanged once in a while. When such moments took place, there would be grand balls, wonderful feasts, and pleasurable stays in either castle of Anvard or Cair Paravel.

Peter sat up again, setting aside the letter for the time being.

Eleanor placed her left hand over her right and rested them on the pommel of her saddle, giving Thistleberry the free length of the reins. She was still watching the progress of the game, the 'it' position shifting from Edmund to Lucy and then at present, back to Edmund when Thistleberry nodded her head, "Here they come!" she laughed. Sure enough, Lucy tugged the reins abruptly to the right and Darcy veered off according to the direction she was commanded. With a toss of her mane, and with Lucy bouncing on the saddle, giddy with excitement, horse and rider galloped towards Eleanor's direction.

"Charge, Phillip!" Edmund said with mock authority. Phillip snorted and laughed, his hooves pounding on the ground as he covered the distance between he and Darcy. Eleanor smiled lightly as Lucy galloped passed to her right, the gust of wind blowing strands of hair over her eyes. Edmund took Eleanor's left, hoping to catch Lucy soon after. He was grinning with expectant victory as he reined the great stallion on, but the in the trice that Phillip was in line with Thistleberry, Edmund felt the horse's body suddenly give way beneath him. Edmund's breath caught in his throat as he felt himself lunge forward with his head meeting Phillip's muscular neck.

Eleanor froze, stunned by what was happening at an alarming speed right beside her. Phillip had thrown off his rider as he stumbled dauntingly and landed on his knees. Edmund was just rolling on the ground to a stop when the horse scrambled back up.

"Edmund!" he exclaimed. He had never gotten his king in such a fall before.

"Oh no," Eleanor gasped and dismounted at once, running to the aid of Edmund's figure in the grass. She knelt by his side and found him curled up. "Slowly," she whispered breathlessly as she slowly supported him to a sitting position, "Edmund, are you hurt?"

Edmund blinked and shook his head, dizziness waving over him madly. He felt as if he had been repeatedly banging his head on a wall. Edmund groaned and kept his eyes shut. Phillip had by now trotted over and started nuzzling his friend's windblown hair with a warm velvety nose, "Apologies, Edmund," said he.

"It's all right," Edmund replied slowly, "I'll be fine in a few minutes."

"Well, you shouldn't bend your head like that if you feel faint," came a gentle voice. Edmund, still with his eyes shut tight, felt two hands gently guide his head up and then firmly begin massaging small circular patterns on his temples. The king was surprised at the touch, and therefore willed his eyes to open. He found Eleanor focused on massaging his head, "What are you doing?" he asked curiously. The princess chuckled shyly, not stopping her work, "You'll see that you don't need to wait 'a few minutes' before you feel better."

Edmund managed a crooked smile and conceded as the sharp sting and throb in the back of his head slowly began to ebb away. Eleanor worked her fingers with steady and even pressure, careful not to hurt the king any more. Thistleberry had already galloped after Darcy and Lucy, calling to them. Eleanor looked up to find the queen trotting over and dismounting, her usual beaming face creased with worry. But she smiled when she received a reassuring glance from her brother, _"Another_ fall, Edmund?"

Edmund smirked. Eleanor realized that the king must have gotten himself in a similar accident in the past. Lucy smiled, not really expecting an answer and seated herself beside Eleanor, watching what she was doing. "Where did you learn how to do that?" she asked curiously. The medical procedure of massaging one's temples was not unusual to the queen, but Eleanor seemed to be doing it rather differently, in a way Lucy failed to explain.

The princess smiled and looked back down at Edmund's temples, working her fingers in bigger circles than before, "A dryad taught me how to do this when I was still a child. He said it was an old procedure, modified after a few centuries of Narnia's existence, but he still believes that this way is much more reliable."

Edmund cleared his throat and smiled thankfully, "That's fine now," said he. Eleanor nodded and withdrew her hands.

"What happened?" Lucy asked, her gaze shifting from Edmund to Phillip, who was presently standing behind him. The stallion shook his mane, "I was unlucky to have stepped into a rabbit's old burrow," he said frustration evident in his voice. Edmund grinned knowingly and scratched the stallion under the chin, "That's all right. We'll just have to watch our footing next time," he said and raised an eyebrow, "You're not hurt are you?"

Phillip snorted, "Nay, Edmund."

"Oh, what a relief," Thistleberry commented as she lowered her head beside Eleanor's shoulder, "That fall was quite a sight."

"Glad we could provide you with some entertainment," Edmund smirked. The horses snorted with chuckles and Lucy giggled and threw arms around her brother's neck, placing a soft kiss on his cheek. Eleanor sat back on the grass easily and smiled at the king's drollery. Lucy grinned, "How much longer can we stay out, Ed?"

Edmund looked up at the sky and noted the position of the sun. Phillip hummed, "Nearing midmorning," said he. Edmund looked at his sister, "Not for very long now, Lucy. Why don't you go ride around a little more?"

Lucy grinned, "Alright," she said happily and turned to face Darcy, "That is, if you don't mind."

Darcy tossed her mane. Being a young mare of ten years, she was just as sprightly as the queen, "I am inclined when you are," she claimed. Lucy scrambled to her feet and looked back at her brother with a caring smile, "You might as well rest then. You still have your councils."

Edmund laughed, "Don't remind me."

With that, Lucy picked up her skirts and ran to her waiting horse. She mounted up easily and went trotting off. Eleanor hugged her knees to her chest, watching as Lucy rode around, talking to Darcy in between. She smiled just as Thistleberry nudged her shoulder, "Little one," said she, "Would you mind if you take off my tack for a moment?"

Before Eleanor could ask any questions, Edmund spoke up and asked, "Going for a roll, Thistleberry?"

The mare nodded enthusiastically. Eleanor smiled with a furrowed brow, thoughtful about what that meant. Edmund laid a gentle hand on her arm, "Come, I'll teach you," he said simply and helped her to her feet. The king walked to Thistleberry's left side and began to teach Eleanor how to take off the buckles of the girth strap and carefully lift the saddle off of the horse's back. When Eleanor tried to pull on the leather, she let out an embarrassed laugh. Edmund smiled, relieved by Eleanor's little display of mirth, "You'll need to tug harder."

Then he guided her through removing the bridle and to take care not to force the leather straps over the horse's ears. Eleanor learned that quickly without a problem. The royals soon found that Phillip wanted the same done for him, since the fall had shaken his knees. Edmund nodded and began to skillfully work on the girth buckles, grunting with the effort of trying to pull at the new leather. He laughed, "Does the saddle fit well, by the way?"

Phillip nodded enthusiastically, "It does excellently for me," he replied, "And you?"

Edmund nodded and turned to a patiently waiting Eleanor, "Do you mind taking off his bridle?"

"Not at all," Eleanor quickly walked to Phillip's head and helped his bridle off.

"What's this for, Edmund?" she asked as Phillip dropped the bit carefully in her hand. Eleanor was referring to another line of straps attached to the reins and then to the girth and pommel of the saddle. They had small buckles to suit the width of the leather, similar to those on the bridle.

"That," Edmund began, placing the girth on the saddle seat, "Is a martingale. Phillip here can get a little feisty sometimes," he smiled teasingly. Phillip snorted and nipped jestingly at the king's head.

In a few minutes, Edmund and Eleanor found themselves seated aside each other again on the grass while watching the horses roll happily about a few feet away, the tack resting nearby.

"How did you find your ride with Thistleberry?" Edmund asked casually, attempting to strike a conversation with his quiet companion. He was returned with a soft smile.

"Thistleberry _is_ a good teacher," Eleanor replied, "Did Phillip teach you how to ride?"  
"Indeed he did," Edmund nodded and then smiled as he recalled the first time he rode on the stallion, "I had thought he was a Dumb Horse," he said, "Quite embarrassing. We didn't get along very well after that."

Eleanor smiled, "Oh?" she said, a hint of amusement in her quiet tone, "What did you do to mend?"

"Well," Edmund furrowed his brow in thought, "I approached him after the Battle of Beruna and I apologized to make it Pax. I suppose things got better after that," Edmund looked at Eleanor with an easy smile, "I earned his respect, and he very well earned mine. He's a great friend, really."

"You do seem very close with him," Eleanor smiled back, her grey eyes looking distant for a moment, "As if you were brothers," she added softly.

"Did Phillip teach Peter how to ride too?"

Edmund shook his head, "Nay," he smiled thoughtfully, "He was taught by Ivoryhorn, the unicorn who carried him through the Battle of Beruna."

Eleanor's eyes widened, "A unicorn?" she asked. Edmund nodded, "He was shot by an arrow in battle," he said dryly.

"Oh. I'm sorry," Eleanor replied sincerely.

Edmund's smile was weak, "Good steed," he said softly.

The princess returned her gaze to the horses; afraid she might have relived a dark memory. Edmund looked and saw Thistleberry was pawing at the air at a fluttering butterfly. She twisted to lie on the grass and reached out her nose. The insect flew right below her forelock.

Edmund racked his brain for something to say, not really fond of silences in a conversation. _How do Peter and Susan manage to keep up conversations when they're with members of the courts?_ he thought, awed. Peter and Susan _did_ seem to have a special gift of keeping people engrossed in conversation, which made them excellent speakers when entertaining important guests. Edmund recalled the time when noble court visitors from Galma had come to discuss business negotiations, and Peter was absolutely brilliant. His charm did not seem to have failed to attract some noblewomen either. Susan on the other hand, could just flash a beautiful smile and people would try to keep _her_ occupied with sweet poetic words that really made Edmund gag. He marveled at how his sister managed to tolerate such 'flattery.' Now, sweet Lucy didn't have any problem. Her friendly and easy nature was her very being, making her an excellent conversationalist. Thus, it was not difficult to get used to the idea that she was actually a queen of a powerful empire.

"That's a beautiful butterfly," Edmund tried again, remembering Susan telling him that all he needed to do to start a little chat was to 'talk about anything under the sun.' Edmund nodded towards Thistleberry, "Unfortunately, I don't know so much about their species. Lucy would, however."

Eleanor hummed and the corners of her lips twitched slightly. She asked slowly, "Have you ever tried touching one?"

Edmund raised his eyebrows, "No, not at all," he said, "They always fly away." He turned to look at Eleanor, his dark eyes filling with curiosity, "Have you?"

Eleanor caught the king's gaze and shifted as an image of Ludwig flashed into her hazy memory. She pushed the thought aside and willed a smile on her lips, "Watch," she whispered and Edmund listened as she began to hum in a soft, unusual melody towards the direction of the butterfly.

Edmund tilted his head on one side in interest, and he dared not interrupt to ask Eleanor what she was doing. The princess continued her soft humming, and Edmund realized the tune had a sort of story in it.

It was a story about Narnia's country and how it had come to be. It was a tale of how the green grasslands unfolded before the eyes of three onlookers, how trees grew in a matter of minutes, how the dome of the azure blue stretched itself endlessly over the young land, homing a golden sun. Edmund could feel the warmth of the Great Lion Aslan enveloping him with His fiery love. He could also hear the deep rumble of His voice, as well as the overwhelming power of His roar. Edmund could just imagine dancing fauns and dryads as they pranced happily around in a circle, blowing on their panpipes, playing on their lyres, and whistling on their happy flutes. The tune could seem to make any creature—_any_ creature, come out of its hiding place and sing with it too.

Edmund shifted slightly, listening to the story of the song when he looked around and found three brilliantly colored butterflies fluttering around him and Eleanor. The first one was a deep violet with shots of bright yellow. The second was a smart emerald with clean and white patterns adorning its wings. Edmund raised his eyebrows, "How did you…" he said, amazed. Eleanor smiled peacefully and held out her hand to call on the third butterfly of illustrious sapphire and the deepest ebony landing easily on her fingers, flashing its brilliant wings.

"Hold out your hand, Edmund," she said. Edmund did as told and watched as the princess gently blew on the creature's wings. The insect flew onto the king's pale open palm, as if obeying a command with free will. Edmund chuckled with delight, the thin legs tickling the skin of his hand. Its dark, beady black eyes stared at him with heightened curiosity, folding and unfolding its wings by force of habit.

Edmund smiled kindly at Eleanor, "Did the dryads teach you how to do this as well?"

Eleanor laughed softly and nodded, her cheeks tinged a slight shade of pink, "They are beautiful creatures, aren't they?"

"The dryads, or the butterflies?"

Eleanor's grey eyes lit up at the question, "Both," she said.

"They _are_ beautiful," Edmund replied and studied the alluring creature on his palm a little while longer. The insect's black eyes shone under the sun, and it tickled Edmund's palm again with a little brisk motion of its hairy legs. Edmund smiled and blew gently on its wings and it instantly flew off of his palm batting carelessly against Eleanor's nose. She giggled, memories from her past experience with the charming creatures flooding her thoughts. The three butterflies now flew away.

Edmund was so engrossed with the sight that he had not noticed Eleanor's face suddenly turn forlorn again. She retreated to her quiet domain, keeping to her thoughts as a single notion ran itself continuously in her head. _Fly free,_ the thought.

Edmund opened his mouth to speak when he saw Eleanor's distant look to the direction of the butterflies that were now fluttering farther and farther into the distance, blithely avoiding bumping against each other. He closed his mouth again and searched the lady's impassive complexion, as if to decipher the very thoughts coursing through the void of Eleanor's mind. Edmund flinched an image of the Child Eleanor presented itself to his thoughts. He furrowed his brow and watched the Eleanor he saw before him. The king clenched his fists. _How dare she wound you,_ he thought bitterly, referring to the Empress Jadis. He had finally run out of things to say.

Edmund waited patiently for another few minutes to pass when he heard Darcy trotting back, her golden mane tangled by the wind. Lucy's face had grown pale from the cold morning, "Ed!" she called. Both Edmund and Eleanor turned their gaze to greet the incoming pair with smiles.

"I was just about to call you," Edmund grinned and got up to his feet, Eleanor following quickly.

"Time to go?" Lucy asked and her brother nodded in reply. It took another ten minutes to re-saddle the two horses and mount up for the ride back to Cair. Edmund ended up leading the party, realizing Peter would be looking for him soon enough.

It was another quarter of an hour before Edmund found himself seated in his own private study near his quarters, scanning the Calormene letters with judgment.

_Our interest lies only in the possibility of becoming part of your allegiance, and part of your great and expanding Empire. Since your visit to the Palace of the Tisroc (May he live forever,) the Courts have been holding council about how to best approach you to join hands in friendship. We feel the time is nigh._

Edmund rolled his eyes. _They do this through a letter?_

Couldn't they have held a campaign as well, personally sending representatives of the courts, or the Tisroc himself to meet the Narnian monarchy?

"Must they be so uncommon?" he muttered when the door suddenly opened and Peter's blond head poked in, "Edmund, are you too busy?"

The younger brother smirked and slowly placed the letter on his desk. He then rested his hands behind his head and propped up his feet on the table, "Come in, Peter. So nice of you to _knock."_

Peter quickly noted the thick sarcasm in the statement and laughed, "Whoops."

"What do you need?"

The High King allowed himself inside and closed the door behind him with a loud bang. Edmund jerked in his position, "Bother, Pete. First, you don't knock, now you wish to withdraw me of the door."

Peter held up his hand, "That was an honest mistake, Ed. Sorry."

Edmund sniggered as he watched his brother stop right in front of the table and eye the chair sitting in front of it. His gaze shifted from Edmund to the chair for a time or two before saying, "May I sit?"

Edmund gestured smoothly with a hand, "Feel free."

Peter bowed, "Thank you, my liege."

"You're welcome."

"King Lune sent us a letter while you were out. I think you should read it."

Edmund raised his eyebrows and sat properly as Peter handed him the envelope from the folds of his cape. It took the king a moment to read the letter before a broad grin spread on his face, "We haven't seen them since last winter," he said. Peter made no reply and just stared into the eyes of his brother.

"What is it?"

"Do you think Eleanor would mind?"

Edmund lowered his chin in understanding and rubbed his forehead thoughtfully, "Ah…right." He then recalled what happened that morning on the plains.

Peter nodded, "Perhaps Susan can talk to her about it."

"Susan?"

"You know her," Peter smiled, "She'll be able to talk to Eleanor with not a problem."

Edmund shrugged, "Lucy seems to have a good relationship with her as well."

Silence.

"You know, social gatherings just might be what she needs," Peter said. Edmund raised his eyebrows, "Pardon?"

"I'm sure you've noticed, Ed," Peter explained, "She doesn't seem to…smile."

Edmund let out a bitter laugh, remnants of his dream and Jadis taunting his mind's eye, "I'm not surprised."

"The Beavers said she needs to be as close to her kin as possible," Peter reminded him, "I think a ball would be a perfect opportunity for her to familiarize herself with the Empire."

"But isn't that up to her?" Edmund asked reasonably, "Pete, I agree with you that mingling will be good, but maybe not too soon."

Peter nodded in reply, his eyes distant with thought and consideration.  
"This should wait," Edmund added wisely.

Peter raised an eyebrow, "At whose pace?"

"Eleanor's," Edmund replied simply and smiled, "Just to let her acquaint herself with us a little bit more. Today is only her second day, after all."

Peter nodded in agreement, a glint in his eye, "That would probably be best."

Edmund hummed and picked up the letter he was previously reading, "Do you need anything else?"

Peter paused and watched as his brother continued reading the letter in his hand, still waiting for a reply. The High King leaned back in the chair, resting his arm on the left armrest.

"Susan told me about what happened last night, Ed."

Edmund hid his face behind the letter, pretending he hadn't heard. Bother those nightmares.

"Ed."

"Look, I'm fine," Edmund said firmly, lowering the letter with a stiff smile on his face, "Really, Peter."

Peter let out a breath, "Ed, you look more and more tired everyday," he pointed out. Edmund smirked, "I'm not dying."

"Will you please be serious?"

"Peter," Edmund leaned forward in his seat, his dark eyes glowering at his brother, "Who was the one who said that Susan would get worried?" he challenged, "Because I think _that_ someone got her worried in the first place."

"Did you really think we shouldn't have told her?" Peter asked, furrowing his brow in frustration, "Susan's smarter than that, Ed. She would have found out anyway, and _then,"_ Peter held up his hand as Edmund made to interrupt, "And then, we would be in a grand spot."

Edmund sighed defeated. His brother had a point, "Excellent," he mumbled. Peter smirked and reached over to ruffle his brother's hair, "Make it Pax?"

Edmund smiled back.

"And for what it's worth," Peter said as he stood up from his seat, "Susan has now been referring to you as her baby brother."

Edmund turned beet red and laughed, "I feel so loved," he claimed in a high-pitched voice. Peter winked, "You'd better," he grinned, "Are you still up for that spar?"

A smile spread meanly on Edmund's face, a glint in his dark eye, "Are you?"

Peter let out a loud, 'Hah!' and said, "Till then, King Edmund."

"Till then, High King Peter, take care of yourself," Edmund replied, "And the door while you're at it."

"Shut up."

Lucy sat contentedly on the large couch near the fireplace of the Secondary Library, her elbows propped up on a pillow with her hands supporting a fairly large book on Narnian Botany. Eleanor was presently looking through the shelves, searching for a piece of literature that would catch her interest, "Lucy," she called softly, "What would you recommend for me if I were to read about Narnian legends?"

Lucy grinned brightly as she watched Eleanor eyeing the top of a nearby shelf, "There would be a book on that shelf over there," she said and pointed to the direction, "It's called _Times of the Past._ It's a delightful read. Peter used to read to me when we first came here."

Eleanor nodded and smiled thankfully, "I'll go have a look."

Lucy chuckled to herself and returned to her reading, her interest heightened by the lengthy text on medicinal herbs that could be eaten, drank, or just applied.

_The Beruna Fern, also known as the _Bernaeum felix,_ can be found along the fords of Beruna, and is used for a multiple number of illnesses. (See page 152-155 for list of uses)_

_To properly prepare the Beruna Fern, one must first crush its leaves by hand until it can no longer be broken. Then, boil it in a pot of water of about 200 ml until the water is a thick and mossy green. The amount of leaves to be used to boil depends on the illness. (See page 160 for recommended dosage)_

_Let the drink sit in a flask, goblet, or any container for five minutes and serve to the one ill. The one who drinks will wait nigh half an hour before feeling a sense of nausea. The fern _must_ be vomited out._

Lucy raised her eyebrows as she scanned the lower portion of the page, where the sketches of the procedural preparation were found with captions. She was happy to find the images in good detail. The queen looked at the last image of a goblet with mist coming out of its brim. A footnote at the bottom of the page read, _It is _not_ advisable that the fern be taken after a full meal._

She laughed.

At that point, Eleanor had seated herself beside the queen, a deep scarlet leather-bound book in her hands. She smiled, "What are you reading?"

"_Herbs: Medical Approaches,_" Lucy beamed, "There's a very good article here on the _Beruna Fern._"

Eleanor nodded, "Are you fond of working with medicine?"

Lucy beamed, "Very much," then she frowned disapprovingly, "Except when I have to deal with soldiers from a battle. Most _especially,_ Peter and Edmund. They seem to enjoy getting themselves in the most _marvelous_ circumstances, and then declining my cordial."

Eleanor gave in to the urge to chuckle before asking, "Is your cordial herbal?"

"Oh, it's much better," Lucy gushed with modest pride, "It's magical. One drop cures absolutely _any_ injury."

Eleanor tilted her head up slightly, recalling Mr. Beaver, who had fought in the war, mentioning something about a magical cordial given to Queen Lucy by Father Christmas himself.

"I remember when I used to visit the Beavers," Eleanor said hesitantly, "That is, after I ran away. They told me you and your siblings were given gifts that were useful in the historical Battle of Beruna."

Lucy, not really being one to be so careful of her words, went on to say about what had happened that day.

"We had just crossed the frozen river (since it _had been_ a hundred year winter then) and were nearly caught by the White Witch."

Eleanor froze at the mention of the Empress, and struggled with herself to keep a straight face. Unexplained fear shot through insides, taunting her, vexing her, spiting her with icy hatred to recall the _Jadis_ of her haunted past. Eleanor held her breath and clenched her fists under the folds of her dress. Lucy was looking away into the space, trying to recall the events, so she had not noticed, "At least we _thought_ it was the Witch, but alas! It was Father Christmas," the young queen grinned broadly, her chocolate brown eyes dancing as she looked at the princess, "He gave me two wonderful gifts, the cordial and a handsome dagger. The latter I keep in the Royal Treasury. Susan received a quiver of the purest ivory with her initials engraved at the back in fine silver. Her bow and arrows are made of the deepest and strongest wood, which Father Christmas said was held by magic so that Susan will not miss her enemies when she shot," Lucy paused, adding what a great archer her sister was, and her air was filled with a great sense of nobility when she went on to say, "Peter's gifts were a silver shield, and Rhindon, the sword. Engraved on Rhindon is the inscription, _When Aslan bares His teeth, Winter meets its death._ And on the other side of the blade, _When He shakes His mane, we shall have Spring again._"

Eleanor suddenly began to feel a rush of warmth coursing through her body, beginning from the top of her head and all the way down to her toes. It washed away her initial sense of fear and hopelessness, erasing the vivid images of her dark nightmares from her mind's eye. It enveloped her graciously in a blanket of peace and serenity. She shifted in her seat, loosening the clench of her fists, astonished by the strange sensation, and yet feeling rather good. Although, a thought crossed her mind and she asked carefully, "Was Edmund not with you?"

Lucy's breath hitched in her throat. She opened her mouth and looked at the princess, her cheeks tinged a shameful red, "My apologies, Lady," said she benevolently, "But I don't think I can speak for my brother about what had happened in the past."

Eleanor was wise not to push further and nodded, "I understand, Lucy. Forgive me, have I relived moments that are not to be spoken of."

"There is no need to apologize," she replied with prudence and smiled. In that moment of silence, Eleanor knew the conversation had come to a close and she returned to her book, opening the page to a text that read _The Flame of the Fauns._ She smiled as she saw a sketch of a group of five fauns dancing around a bonfire at night playing on their musical panpipes. Then, she furrowed her brow, her hand placed on the sketch with her mind drifting off to Edmund. What had happened that day the Pevensies crossed the frozen river? What was it that Lucy seemed disinclined to share about her brother? The princess wondered if the young king had a past of his own, one that was near as dark as hers that might have involved his siblings. She shook her head, willing herself not to ponder over things that were not hers to judge. _Edmund is a good man,_ she thought with finality. _What ever is past remains behind._

And so they shall. However was oblivious was the princess, that her past was just beginning to redeem itself.

The girls were unaware of the time that passed by, which was a good hour and a half, when the library door opened and Susan entered, a smile plastered on her face, "Hear ye! Hear ye!" she said dramatically. Lucy and Eleanor furrowed their brow in amusement. The Gentle queen cleared her throat, "Come one, come all to the tournament of the High King Peter, and his brother King Edmund of Narnia, as they unsheathe their blades in the name of chivalry."

Lucy gasped and her mouth opened in a broad grin, very similar to the one Susan was wearing, "Eleanor, come quick!" she encouraged, taking the princess's hands in her own, "They spar excellently. You're sure to love the sport!"

Susan chimed laughter, "Indeed," she said, returning to her normal voice, "We have to meet them in fifteen minutes at the courtyard. They're just putting on their leather armor."

Lucy raised an eyebrow and smiled, "At _whose_ orders?"  
"Mine, of course," Susan stuck her chin up, "Do you really think I'll let them spar another day without even just their leather armor? You should have seen what they were up to three days ago."

Lucy laughed. Eleanor smiled, "I'll gladly come. Let me just return this to the shelves."

Lucy bounced, "Oh, of course! I should probably do the same."  
"I'll wait outside," Susan smiled and left. Eleanor and Lucy parted ways to the respective shelves of their books. Eleanor went all the way back to a dark area of the library, already going to fit the book into its space when her chest suddenly felt a hot flash of searing pain. The princess gasped and dropped the heavy book on the floor, doubling over and grabbing at her necklace. The gilt pendant was as hot as a brand. Eleanor cleared her throat and held the gold in her hand, staring at it as it shone weakly, despite the lack of light in the area of the library she stood in. Her eyebrows creased upward, uncertain of what was happening.

"Eleanor?" Lucy's voice called softly from out of the shelves. Eleanor let go of the pendant and was astounded by the suddenly ice-cold metal that came in contact with the skin of her chest. Her neck prickled at the back.

"Eleanor, is everything all right?" Lucy called again, and her footsteps made their way to the direction of the princess. Eleanor hastily grabbed the book from the floor and placed it back in the shelf just as the queen made her appearance, her eyebrows raised.

"Pardon," Eleanor said breathlessly, "I couldn't find the space."  
Lucy laughed brightly, "Oh, not a problem. That's happened to me a good deal," she beckoned her friend to follow, "Now, come. Susan will be waiting, and I want to see Peter and Edmund as soon as possible."

**Author's Note: **I hope I've perked up your appetite for the next chapter ;D

_**Borovian Translations:**_

Évansk tü vréna brélovich fra prövenn-What ever is your problem/ What's the problem with you?

Vénska esk nomprövenn- You're my problem!

Növerda fra vansk tü vranovîch Eleanor-sîthénna- Don't be a bad influence too Eleanor. _(sîthénna/ sister_ is a polite expression that must always be used when siblings address each other)

_Ludwig-_bröthenna _hégrilo_ tü nomvranovîch fra Eleanor-sîthénna-_(You,) Ludwig_ does _not_ want to be a bad influence to Eleanor? _(bröthenna/ brother)_

Tü pleviska- _(has numerous meanings)_ of course/ with pleasure/ sure (I do!)

Sé élovre venska, nomsîthénna- I love you, my sister

Svordîbrevann- _(has numerous meanings)_ (this means) war!/charge!

Please review! I'd love to know what's on your mind ;D

Thanks to those who have been reviewing/reading/favorite-ing and have reached this far a chapter. You guys are great!

Oh, and I edited an avatar (in my profile) depicting a vague image of Eleanor. It's not much, but feel free to have a look :)


	9. Chapter 8: Clandestine Adversary

**Author's Note: **vrangr here putting up the eighth chapter of _Curse on the Crown,_ entitled, _Clandestine Adversary!_ In this chapter, we will see a little bit of the other characters.

Oh, and if any of you are interested in seeing _sketches of King Edmund, Princess Eleanor (present age, and child versions) and the Narnian pendant of Eleanor's necklace_, please go to **www. freewebs. com/ vrangrfic**, or simply go to my profile page and click on my homepage :D I promise you, you will not be disappointed by those sketches.

**Chapter 8: Clandestine Adversary**

By the time the queens and princess had arrived at the courtyard, Peter and Edmund were already waiting, standing patiently in conversation with their swords already unsheathed and leaning leisurely by their legs. Peter was first to greet them, "Ah, there they are," he called, "Off to the ramparts, Your Graces?"

Susan smiled, "Nay, brother. Our most Valiant sister wishes to ceremonially begin the tournament."

Edmund smirked, "Ah, that be right."

Peter nodded as Susan and Lucy stood in front of them, Eleanor only a few steps behind. The kings knelt on one knee, their heads bent solemnly down. Lucy walked closer to her eldest brother and placed a kiss on his hair, "Fight rightly, High King. And in the Name of the Lion."

"I shall."

Susan did the same for Edmund, placing a soft kiss in his hair. As this was being carried out, Eleanor watched with great interest, for she had never seen the sport for her own eyes. Susan turned expectantly towards her and smiled, "The Lady should repeat the exercises," she sad simply. Eleanor wasn't expecting that. The princess decided that argument wouldn't be acceptable, and so she returned the Gentle queen's smile and walked first to the High King. She laid a light hand on his shoulder and said, "Fight rightly, High King, in the Name of the Lion. Protect the honor of your family."

"I shall."

Edmund swallowed as he kept his eyes firmly on the ground. He felt Eleanor's light hand rest on his left shoulder and her voice repeating the words. Edmund nodded, "I shall."

Eleanor mouth twitched in a tight line, slightly surprised at the warmth contained in the voice of the Just king. Strangely enough, she felt her necklace again grow warm against her chest. Eleanor quickly straightened up and returned to her place beside Susan as the queen said, "Rise, Knights of the Noble Order," said she. Peter and Edmund _did_ look like knights as they rose and stood to face each other. Susan gestured smoothly with her hands, the smile on her face slowly spreading, "Cross your blades," said she.

"Let the tournament, _begin!"_

And the sound of the signal was met with that of two opposing swords, coming at each other with power and strength. Edmund wore a satisfied smirk on his face as he blocked a hard blow directed to his left arm, "Well, well, well," he grinned, "Not so bad for someone who has battled his morning through councils."

Peter snorted and grinned meanly, blocking his brother's returning strike near the hilt of his sword and locked blades, "Come on, Ed," he said, blue eyes flashing with game, "Show me what a morning's ride out on the plains does to your arm."

"With _pleasure."_

Edmund twisted his hilt even more fiercely into Rhindon's and wrenched around, pulling Peter along with him. The High King, however appalled by the new tactic, managed to regain his composure and slid his blade free off of the opponent's. He laughed and threw three consecutive blows to his brother, sending him stepping backwards, "Brilliant!"  
"Reveling, brother?" Edmund smiled smoothly as he swung his sword vigorously forward, aiming only to disarm his brother. The High King dodged smartly away, "Are you?" he grinned back.

Susan and Lucy were very much enjoying themselves the entire time, cheering their brothers as they sparred around in a fixed circle. Eleanor was aware however, that Susan was smiling mostly because she was pleased with herself for having managed to coax the kings into wearing their armor. The princess watched, allowing herself to be greatly impressed by the defensive maneuvers of Edmund against the sharp actions of Peter's sword. They were like great warriors on the field of a chivalrous fight, prancing here and there, displaying unquestionable dominion.

"Come on, Ed!" Susan squealed, unable to contain herself, "Go at him again!"

Eleanor grinned at the queen and watched as Edmund charged at Peter with a laughing battle cry. He grinned teasingly as the High King just managed to dodge the wild figure of the blade.

"Oi, Ed!" Peter laughed mirthfully as he ducked below, narrowly escaping a swing of Edmund's sword, "Seems that our Gentle queen is taking well to the fight."

"So she is," Edmund grinned as he glanced momentarily at his sister and bent back just in time to escape Rhindon's whistling blade, "That wasn't fair!" the king protested and struck at his brother. Peter shrugged matter-of-factly, "Never let your focus waver, King Edmund. It's a sad thing."

"Then let's finish this," Edmund smiled slyly and he and his brother proceeded with their play.

What Edmund had in mind about finishing the fight was certainly not what he was expecting to greet his eyes after he turned around to avoid a harsh thrust from his opponent, for when he did, _he came face to face with the White Witch._ _Like a ghost of his past repeating itself before his eyes, Jadis charged at him with a single thin blade in her hand, her black chain mail glinting under the heat of the sun. She smiled brutally at the king, sending him consecutive blows from her sword, tiring out Edmund's sword arm, wearing him down with the pain of muscle tension from the effort of trying to protect himself. _What's happening?_ Edmund thought frantically, as he could no longer comprehend his surroundings. It was him, and the witch on the courtyard. The witch was fighting for the blood she wished so much to draw from the Narnian royal, while Edmund was trying desperately to survive. He growled and swung his blade forward, only missing his target. Jadis turned to him and locked her blade on his own, saying with such rich and smooth tones, "Dvélivrevich." _

_Edmund's eyes widened and he suddenly felt the skin of his torso tear with the sensation of hot metal slice his skin. _Oh, ASLAN!

"No…STOP!" Eleanor was appalled by the force of her own voice at it escaped her lips. Her pendant glinted fiercely under the daylight, heating up the same way it had in the library. Eleanor had clenched her fists so, that her knuckles came like protruding white marble against her already pale skin. Susan and Lucy gasped and ran to their brothers, Edmund lying on the ground curled up into a ball, and Peter shocked by the situation had stumbled beside his brother, having thrown Rhindon a fair distance away.

"Edmund!" Susan practically screamed. She knelt by her brother and pulled him into a sitting position. His face was very pale and very sweaty, allowing the Gentle queen to recall the night she had relieved him of his nightmare, "Ed, what happened?" she asked worriedly. Peter's blue eyes had become wild. Edmund swallowed, realizing that he had allowed his mind to get the better of him, seeing the image of Jadis instead of his brother, allowing the terror of her presence to envelope him in dark memories. One could never completely describe the present condition the monarchs were in at the moment, most especially Edmund. He was so confused, and terrified by his mind's own games. Peter on the other hand, was not so different, for to see your brother good and well one minute and then in fits of pain the next, is quite unnerving.

"Ed?" Peter stammered, "Please tell me you're not hurt. I didn't know—you just froze and suddenly. Ed, I nearly-"

"Pete," Edmund replied shakily, "It's not your fault."

"What happened?" came Lucy's voice, just as anxious as the others. Edmund shook his head and stared at Peter, "It's like…it was like a nightmare, only…_real."_

"Ed, you _have_ to tell us what's going on!" Peter said desperately and pulled his shaken brother into a tight hug, "What did you see?"

The confusion had barely lasted a minute for Peter, Susan, and Lucy, but for Edmund it certainly felt much longer. In the middle of the fight, Edmund had raised his sword in defense as Peter was going to strike his blade forward. The younger king however had suddenly froze and his eyes just stared into the nothingness of the vast courtyard grounds. Peter just managed to avoid slaying his own brother as he instinctively threw his sword away and stumbling heavily in the process.

Edmund furrowed his brow, closing his eyes. He willed himself to calm down, to think. The king bit his lip. Those vivid images just seemed too genuine. They had grown to be pragmatic enough to…haunt him even when he was awake. _Of all the blasted…_ Edmund thought bitterly. Quickly, his eyes flew open and he looked at Susan and Lucy with question, "Where's Eleanor?"

Susan looked stunned a moment, and stared behind her. The princess had gone. The queen quickly scrambled to her feet, "I'll go find her," she said with finality and began her way back through the dark halls of the courtyards.

Edmund stared after his sister for a moment, still disoriented from the event when he pulled himself together and hastily balanced himself up too, only to be cut off by Lucy, "Ed, I need you to rest. If this is magic, it won't help if you go gallivanting about the castle."

The king was stubborn enough and he ignored Lucy's hardly ever stern tone, and the fact that she seemed to have found out what was ailing him, "If this is magic, I _need_ to find her," he said and turned to Peter, despondent for his brother's consent. Peter nodded, clearly still shaken.

Eleanor ran down the halls, gasping through her tears, her mind still aware of what she had seen back in the courtyard. _A frightfully beautiful woman with flowing yellow hair, and flashing green eyes stood tall over a young man in regal clothing. Ludwig. Jadis had with her a thin blade in one hand, and something that looked like a spear of ice in the other. She smiled cruelly as she sparred the Varchovîch with skilled ease, victory evident on her curved lips. She managed to disarm him, to let him get thrown on the ground and to get up on his feet on his own. Eleanor watched, horrified as the witch circled her brother, hiding him from her vision for a brief moment. But when the princess looked to see her brother again, she felt her breath hitch in her throat as she caught sight of Edmund instead, his dark eyes dulled with tears and exhaustion as he gripped weakly at his now bloody tunic. The king got up on his hands and knees, only to be met by the wooden end of Jadis's spear against his cheek. Again, Edmund fell, with an agonizing groan of protest, his chest heaving with violent coughs and desperate gasps. Jadis laughed with triumph as she pointed threateningly at Eleanor, "Dvélivrevich, Eleanor."_

Eleanor's heart raced as she ran on, blinded by her tears. She found her way to the stairwell that led to the passage leading to the halls of the Secondary Library, which was the same stairwell she and the queens had passed earlier on. Eleanor wrenched open the iron handle and picked up her skirts to run up the cold staircase, her feet pounding on the rough stone, the pendant again becoming cold against her skin. She pushed away the vivid images of Jadis from her mind, the frightened Ludwig away, the severed Edmund aside. Eleanor burst through the door and found herself in the lit hallway of Cair Paravel's east wing. She froze and gripped herself, leaning against the wall. What was _happening_ to her? Eleanor hastily retrieved a handkerchief from the folds of her dress and dried her tears, for she did not desire any passing guard or servant to catch her weeping. It might not be a good impression of the monarchs after all.

Yet, nothing will silence the yearning of Eleanor's heart to find out what had happened in the courtyard.

The princess inhaled deeply and let out her breath. She closed her eyes, whispering, "Take peace, Eleanor. Take peace." She shook her head and her eyes flew open to find the warm glow of Cair Paravel's marble and white stone structures. The princess willed her heart to pace as her eyes drank in the familiar surroundings of the castle. Eleanor placed her handkerchief daintily back into the folds of her skirts and looked back at the stairwell door. A shiver ran down her spine. She knew the monarchs may become worried for her whereabouts, but she couldn't face them just yet. She couldn't even explain why she had screamed initially.

What had happened in the courtyard was clearly a confused series of events, and it is my hope that things can be made clear now. As Eleanor watched the two kings through their swordplay, her necklace began to flare. The princess had decided to ignore the strange feel of the jewel and instead continued to watch. But as her attention returned to the kings, she saw instead Jadis and her very own brother. After which, did she see Edmund in place of Ludwig. At the same time, Edmund was having a living nightmare of his own, seeing Jadis instead of Peter, sparring with him 'to the death.' Hence, his mind recoiled at the very realization of the horrifying being before him. His initial reaction was very much expected. While all this was taking place, and Susan and Lucy were enjoying the sport, unaware that there was presently something amiss, Peter had made to strike a blow to his brother when Eleanor's voice broke through his train of thought. Sure enough, the princess had just stopped the High King from slaying his own brother.

Returning to present circumstances, Eleanor shook her head and walked on down the hallway, recognizing it after a few steps through that this was the same pass to the Royal Study. Coming to a sharp bend in the wing validated Eleanor's thoughts as she recalled Susan explaining to her in the past where the bend led. _Cair Paravel must be bigger than I thought,_ Eleanor mused, her eyes widening as the hallway stretched even further passed the study's supposed doorways, displaying walls lined with richly designed windows and tapestries and the never ending Lion banners. She had not the time to come here before, even in the company of the queens, for they saved for her the pleasantries of the open gardens, and courtyard, and other castle sights that fit that category. However, they _had_ mentioned little about the study, only that it was a vast area used as special quarters for their lessons with an old teacher from the Council. Ortemius. It was said to be one of the oldest rooms of Cair Paravel, for this is where a number books of reference belonging previous monarchy were stored for study. However, age was not something one will find the beautiful room, for it was well cared for through and through the many years of Narnia's existence. These descriptions had always heightened the princess's curiosity to glimpse the study for herself, wondering just what she might find. And although now, her spirits were low, she very much needed something to clear her mind. Eleanor bit her lip and cautiously walked further down the hall coming to the study doors. She found them slightly ajar.

Ortemius shuffled briskly behind the shelves, rummaging through the clutter of unused books in the dim area of the study. This was certainly becoming to be a disappointing morning for him. _Where in the Lion's mane is that book?_ He thought frustrated. The Old Teacher walked as quickly as his age could permit from one shelf to another, running his fingers over the spines of the old representations of literature, his eyes quickly scanning the titles of each book. Ortemius scowled, irritation radiating from his very being.

_They_ had been pestering him for nights now telling him that _they_ knew something was amiss. It was about magic, and of a kind _they_ were not knowledgeable of. Ortemius would prove to be the last resort into figuring out what ever it is that had to be learned. _Where is it?_ he thought when he suddenly heard the doors creak. Ortemius straightened up and furrowed his brow questioningly. If this was King Edmund again, trying to pry him of information on Borovia, he did not know how he would react today, especially with his seemingly sour mood. _Borovia…_the teacher scoffed inwardly and made his way quietly out from the shelves. He was quite surprised to see a regal looking young woman just entering the study and looking over the beautiful quarters.

The moment Eleanor found herself in the study, she let out a very silent gasp, staring in awe at the large area of knowledge; and to think that this single room held a little of _everything_ in Narnia. There were shelves and shelves of old maps, and charts and large books lining the walls left and right. Midmorning sunlight spilled from three great and elegantly furnished windows, lighting up the room with a sort of radiance Eleanor had never seen before. She craned her neck to look further down the wall to her left, and found oil canvases hanging proportionally as they aligned. Each canvas was a depiction of a very scholarly looking person, perhaps members of the Council or other educators of Narnia's previous royals and nobility. Eleanor walked hesitantly to a shelf and bent forward, not really seeing fit to walk any further, afraid she might disrupt a very beautiful sort of peace. Returning her gaze curiously towards the nearest framed canvas, she was met with the painting of a very aged dwarf with very wise, and captivating bright eyes, and clothed in richly designed dress robes.

"May I help you, Lady?" said a voice.

Eleanor gasped and caught a loud exclamation on her tongue before it had a chance to meet her voice, and she swiveled around.

"I see you have found the canvases of some of Cair Paravel's scholarly nobles. That right there is Dyarnaëum, an excellent dwarf astronomer who lived and died to be remembered as one of Narnia's greatest Imperial Councilors."

Eleanor looked to see an old and rather stout looking man on the opposite end of the room. He walked forward, one hand laid below his chest and the other adjusting his spectacles that threatened to fall off his crooked nose. His face was covered by his long grey hair and beard, which fell just above his belt. His clothing was very rich, and very dark in color, with rusty red, faded ocher yellow, and old grey. On his fingers, there seemed to be a good number of rings that looked slightly dull, though one shone quite nicely. As far as Eleanor could see, it looked like garnet. Whoever this man was, he looked very wise, and so she assumed him to be the only man she thought he could be, "Please, Sir," said she, "I do beg pardon. You must be the Old Teacher of the Council, Ortemius."

The man looked stunned for a moment to be addressed when he smiled kindly, "That would be correct, My Lady. And who may I have come to delight in the presence of the moment?"

Eleanor's lips twitched slightly, "I am Lady Eleanor, Teacher. I am a guest of the monarchy."

Ortemius lowered his head slightly, as if in thought "Ah, so you are she," he replied slowly, "I've heard from some residences of the castle that there was a guest about. Unfortunately, I am here if not in the Council, so perhaps that explains why we haven't met until now," Ortemius smiled feebly and walked over after a polite bow, which Eleanor returned with her curtsy.

"May I ask what brings you here on this beautiful midmorning, Lady Eleanor?"  
"Oh, I had just wanted to see the study, Teacher. The Queen Susan mentioned that this is where you hold their lessons," Eleanor smiled slightly, "It is a very beautiful part of the castle."  
Ortemius chuckled warmly as he made his way to a large wooden table at the center of the room to roll up an astrologic map he had laid out, "If you find this beautiful, My Lady, then I am to assume you have yet to see the Main Library."  
Eleanor raised her eyebrows. _My, it must be so beautiful if people won't stop going on about it._

"Now," the Old Teacher said as he turned his back for a moment to place the large rolled up map back in its shelf, "I must say that you should not be fooled by the beauty of this room," he turned back and smiled, "It certainly hides any sign of its senility."

"So I've heard," Eleanor smiled back, her brow furrowing in curiosity, "How old is it, Teacher?"

Ortemius narrowed his eyes in thought, "Let's see, now…perhaps nigh five millennia now."

Eleanor was astounded, "How declined for so exquisite a structure."

Ortemius's bright eyes danced behind his spectacles at the expression on the princess's face, "Such is the way, when things are laced with deep magic."  
Eleanor tilted her head slowly to one side and said carefully, "You certainly appear to have an excellent erudition of Cair Paravel."  
Ortemius nodded and he began rolling up another map, "I do disapprove of boasting, My Lady," said he, "But I am proud to say that I know much about the Narnian Empire itself." Ortemius held up his arms and gestured purposefully around the room, "In fact, I have only began learning so much _because_ of Cair Paravel, for she is the very seat of the Empire's governmental power, and offers many stories to tell," the Old Teacher nodded as he slowly lowered his arms and waved to the long line of canvases behind Eleanor, "And these men and women, apprentices, magicians, councilors and advisers, studied and discovered a good deal of what he know now."

Eleanor smiled inwardly, humored by the openness of the conversation, her spirits gradually redeeming, "Might I ask how that came to be so, Teacher?"

Ortemius set the map aside and looked up, "If you have heard of the historical Hundred Year Winter," said he, "I lived even before that time."

Eleanor froze. That means... Eleanor masked her emotions at once, watching with increasing curiosity as the Teacher went about his business, folding more and more maps and charts, setting them aside to make space for books. "Before the Long Winter, say you, Teacher," Eleanor said quietly, approaching the table to lay her hands leisurely on the back of one of the chairs. Ortemius paused his task a moment, eyeing the lady across the table, "Ah, yes."

"And you were already part of Cair Paravel's Council?"

Ortemius chuckled again with good nature and shook his head, "Nay, My Lady," said he, "I was part of different Imperial Courts."

Eleanor's curiosity was aroused again at that point, "Courts, Teacher?"

"Courts," Ortemius said with a firm nod of his head, "Anvard, Galmaan, Régaléanovîch, and finally Cair Paravel's Council. The Courts are for nobility, after all. Times have changed." He added that with a small reminiscent smile, waving a hand freely in the air.

The princess clasped her hands behind her back. _Régaléanovîch,_ was the Court of Borovia. From the word alone, she knew that much of her kingdom. Curse her for not being so about her own family. Eleanor furrowed her brow and shook her head, struggling greatly to clear her mind. There was no doubt Ortemius knew her family. Oh, how she longed to ask him so many questions now! Although, the princess knew such actions would be dreadfully foolish. But if she could get to acquaint with the Old Teacher little by little...

"The Régaléanovîch, Teacher," Eleanor began, "I have heard of it before but I am not quite sure where and how."

Ortemius's face suddenly became very solemn and he paused, staring down at a large leather-bound book in his hand, "That would be because its country, Borovia, no longer exists, My Lady," he replied, "You might have heard of it from your lessons, just as the monarchy of Cair Paravel."

Eleanor felt her eyes sting and her heart beat heavily in her chest. So maybe the kings and queens could tell her something about her family too. All she had to do is ask. She took a deep breath and forced yet another mask over her now conflicting aura, "Borovia," she said, "That would be Bfivoria, am I correct?"  
Ortemius looked up from the book, slowly feeling slightly bemused by the lady's curious inquiries. Yet, it would be improper if he refused to reply. There was, however, a certain air around this lady, one that he could not comprehend. Her piercing grey eyes however held his gaze with alarming ease, waiting patiently for an answer. Ortemius straightened up, "Yes, Your Grace," he said finally, "Her history is as uncertain as her supposed downfall."

Eleanor squared her shoulders, and nodded, "You said that you arrived to be in Cair Paravel's Council after Régaléanovîch," she said with sure connotation, "Why not back to Anvard, or Galmaan?"

Ortemius seemed to ease at the course of the conversation, "My Lady," he began, "My story is a very long line of events. I am afraid it might wear on your patience, especially to hear from someone such as myself." Ortemius smiled and blinked as he stacked another leather-bound book over the previous he held on his hand. Eleanor hummed and pursed her lips thoughtfully, her eyebrows woven together in interest, "I have the time and the ears, Teacher," said she, and added quite hesitantly, "Will you allow me to be a student for the morning?"

The Teacher raised his eyebrows at the request and gave it some thought. Eleanor held her breath, very despondent to learn more about who she was. She had been uncertain of her identity long enough, and had been asking too many questions long enough, and had been _lost_ long enough.

After a few moments, Ortemius gestured easily to a chair before him and laughed behind his beard, "Let us begin," said he. Eleanor smiled thankfully and took her seat before the Teacher as he prepared for her a sheet of parchment, and a quill and inkwell.

"We start by looking at Narnia before the Long Winter," Ortemius said as he produced a fairly large map before Eleanor. It showed the present geographical locations of the Empire along with several curious red dots scattered across the aging parchment. They, as Eleanor learned, were previous extensions of various territories of the different reigning kingdoms, borders, routes, or dried rivers.

"Here, My Lady," the Teacher pointed to Archenland's country, circling his finger around the sketch of the mountains, "Is Anvard." Eleanor saw Ortemius's finger stop at the said location, where a small interpretation of a castle had been etched. In very sophisticated calligraphy did it read below, _Anvard._ "This is where I began my position in court," said the Teacher, "I served as an adviser to the royals for nearly a hundred years, carrying the title of Lord for the position."

"What was it like to be in Anvard's Imperial Court?" Eleanor asked.

"Archenland's culture is very different from Narnia, but it is just as rich and wholesome. Serving in her Court was an honor, as well as a pleasure," Ortemius nodded, "It is a mountainous country with grasslands, beautiful falls, lush trees and vibrant rivers, and every now and then you will hear the song of a village maiden or two sounding across the valleys as they go about their daily chores."

Ortemius paused and then began gesturing with his hands as he continued to emphasize his points, "Anvard is the seat of power of the country. It is very much like Cair Paravel in function, housing royals, nobles, and government officials that serve as aids to the king."

Ortemius paused and held up a hand to his chin, "And Narnia had negotiated with her allegiance after King Frank and Queen Helen had been crowned officially to take over the throne of Cair Paravel."

Eleanor quickly recalled the books she had read in the Beavers' Dam, "King Frank and Queen Helen were the very first monarchy of Cair Paravel," she said, "How did they come to be?"

Ortemius smiled and shook his head, "Strangely enough no one surely knows. Although, there are theories that they were summoned by the Lion himself by magic, very much like the present kings and queens."

Eleanor raised her eyebrows, "You mean to say, Teacher," she said, "High King Peter, King Edmund, Queens Susan and Lucy," Eleanor paused, most unsure of how she could continue, or whether she even should, "They are not Narnian?"

"Oh, dear Aslan, I didn't mean to say that, My Lady," Ortemius said, startled, "They are very Narnian, but you see, history only says that they are from a distant land of the Empire's North, right above the Lantern Waste. That land is called Spare Oom, where they lived in a simple city by the name of War Drobe. Some say it's even farther than Ettinsmoor," Ortemius again pointed the location on the map, "In fact, it's so far no one has really ventured to it."

That was answer enough. Eleanor found a strange urge that told her not to press on the matter and so she set it aside, "And Galmaan," she said, "That is on Galma of the Eastern Sea. How and when did you arrive there, so far and clearly different from Archenland?"  
Ortemius laughed as he recalled memories of his past, "Well, after my service at Anvard, I decided upon myself that change will be good, and so Galma came to mind. After all, I had spent a lot of my years on land and mountains, perhaps a little sea spray would be just as marvelous."  
Eleanor smiled her eyes displaying a kind of mirth it had long omitted, "And Galma is good?"  
Ortemius nodded, "Indeed," then his face grew grave, "However, by the time I had arrived in Galma, winter had already begun, which was unusual at that time of year. Sure enough there were already rumors going about the Empire that the long mysteriously silent evil that had been hiding, was now lurking about and preparing to rise, in the form of a beautiful woman with a pale face, terrible green eyes and lips the color of the blood that it was said she wished to drink."

Eleanor shivered, threatening reminiscences scathing the dark crevices of her mind, and whispered almost unconsciously, "Jadis."

Ortemius nodded and pointed a finger up to emphasize his point, "White Witch Jadis, Empress of the Lone Islands. She was said to be very nigh the Western Woods and the kingdom of Telmar. Learning this, representatives of all Imperial Courts across Narnia held council. Thus, countless numbers of magicians across the Empire were alerted and were called to stay on the lands to fend the dark arts if they could. I was one of those called to advise and defend the Régaléanovîch of Borovia."

Eleanor couldn't help but lean forward in her seat, her fingers tightening its grip on her quill. _Defend?_ she thought, suddenly feeling bitter and angry, _Did you __**fail?**_ Eleanor set her jaw and bit her tongue to keep herself from voicing her sentiments. Instead, she said, "They, the Borovians, suffered most out of all countries of the Empire. What happened? Surely you know, Teacher."

Ortemius cleared his throat and closed his eyes, "I actually wish I didn't," he said gravely, shaking his head, "When I had arrived in Borovia after only two years under Galmaan Court, the country was already in a state of havoc, having already begun rebelling against its own crown."

Eleanor swallowed hard, struggling to place a straight and unreadable face. She nodded, "Under whose reign did you arrive, Teacher?"

"King Garvîosk, an old but kind monarch who was crowned only three years at that time," Ortemius replied, his eyes looking into the distance of the study, "He died of Old Age another two years later. His daughter, Slavinakov took the throne."

Eleanor raised her eyebrows, "What happened to her?"

"The queen died in her sleep, suspected of being poisoned by her own subjects," the Teacher again waved his hand, "But such were the rumors. I can perhaps tell you more about poisoning when we meet again, and have more time, My Lady."  
Eleanor nodded and tapped her quill on the parchment, "When she died," she began, "Who ruled after her?"

"Now, succession had become difficult by then," Ortemius said, his eyebrows furrowing at the seriousness of the matter, "I was already serving in the Régaléanovich, and was being asked to aid in the election of the next monarch. The Court decided that the next ruler should be the closest remaining relative of the Varchovîch, which would obviously mean we had to choose a nobility."

Eleanor tensed in her seat, knowing that she was about to hear something she had been longing to have, answered, "Who did you choose?"

"Sir Marthelius and his wife, Vericha. After many years through their reign, they were blessed with three possible heirs. They were excellent rulers, I must say, and did their very best in controlling the country during those difficult times."

Eleanor could no longer contain herself, despite the fraud of a focused expression on her face, as she leaned forward slightly again and asked, "The three heirs, Teacher," she said carefully, her voice softening to a degree she had never meant, "Did you teach them as you teach the monarchy of Cair?"

Ortemius chuckled and shook his head, "Nay, Your Grace," he said, "I was part of the Court Division of Sorcerers," the Teacher suddenly paused and narrowed his eyes, deep in thought, "However, now that you have mentioned it, I do recall meeting the Highnesses at one important gathering. It was during the nineties of the Long Winter, and I in fact still remember their names."  
"Do tell, Teacher."

"Ah, there was the eldest, Prince Ludwig. He was a fine young man and would have made and excellent ruler," Ortemius swallowed, "Had he the chance. Princess Mathilda was only about a year younger than he, but the youngest, a mere child was named Princess El—" Ortemius suddenly paused and stared back at Eleanor, his eyes conveying a message of great perplexity.

Eleanor leaned back slowly, suddenly aware that the conversation had come to an extremely uneasy silence. Right then, and there, did she realize with a horrid feeling of dread. Had she just spoken of too much, too soon?

**Author's Note: **I know, you're probably going to kill me for the leaving the chapter hanging like that, but 'c'est la vie, eh?' ;) Thanks to all of you who have been reading, reviewing, favorite-ing—Oh, you know the drill!

Again, sketches are on my freewebs (see above A/N)

Till the next chapter!

_**Borovian Translations:**_

_Dvélivrevich-_ (used to curse someone with ill fate) "Death be with you."

_Régaléanovîch- _(literally translates to Regal Court, but is more widely known as the) Imperial Court of Borovia

_Press button below_ :D


	10. Chapter 9: The Little Progeny

**Author's Note: **Hello there, everyone! Ok, so before I let you read, I'd just like to say I'm a little bit on the other side of the globe, so my schooling will start when the majority of you guys have your summer. I will NOT however ABANDON this story! I will not even dream about it, so hang in there. Updates may slow down. You have been forewarned ;;)

Ok, so enough of that—_The Little Progeny._ This chapter was very, and I mean _very,_ fun to write. Read on, and maybe you'll see why.

**Chapter 9: The Little Progeny**

Presently running through the Main Hall of Cair Paravel, after having hastily made his way past the guards at the front doors is the King Edmund, aiding in the search for the Lady Eleanor. Since realizing that she had abandoned the monarchs in the courtyard, all four kings and queens had proceeded to search for her whereabouts, for being unfamiliar with her and her structure of thinking, they would not know if she would have in any way endangered herself or not, and they were wondering if it had anything to do with her shouting earlier that morning during the fake tournament.

Edmund skidded to a rough halt in the middle of the vast enclosure to catch his breath and looked around, choosing which hall he should enter next. _Bother,_ he thought, reprimanding himself for forgetting where his siblings were searching. He did not want to end up wasting his time in a hall that had already been sought out.

"Edmund."

Edmund whirled around and found Susan hastily making her way to him from across the hall of the galleries, "I haven't found her," she said worriedly. Edmund walked over, shaking his head, "Where do you think?"

"I'm not sure. Oh, I do hope she's all right. This does worry me so!"

"Susan," Edmund said consolingly, "Did you go to the Secondary Library yet?"

"Yes, in fact I used the stairwell from the courtyards and headed there first."

"Where are Peter and Lucy?"  
"Oh, By the Lion, I haven't a clue either!" Susan's face was fixed in an agitated expression, and Edmund knew he had to keep his own head so as to calm his sister. He furrowed his brow, "Then we'll work on our own. Cair Paravel is awfully big."  
"So it is, but I think Eleanor will be where she is familiar with."

_I doubt it,_ Edmund thought, deciding upon not saying that aloud. He knew a mind like Eleanor's, or at least he was vaguely familiar with it, given how he was in the past. _If Eleanor was unfamiliar with a place, I reckon she'd be more comforted there than anywhere else,_ the king reasoned quietly as he looked around the Main Hall again, _It's a way to clear her mind. Now, where would she be?_

"Susan," Edmund said at once, "When you saw the Secondary Library, did you go through the entire east wing?"

Susan raised her eyebrows, "Of course not," she said uncertainly, "I mean, Eleanor isn't familiar with any of the other rooms in the east wing…"

Edmund eyed her strangely.

"Unless, she did some exploring on her own," the queen finished and she again looked like she was about to cry, "Oh, how daft of me, Ed!" she said, "We should look there right now."

Edmund led the way to the staircase and scaled it two steps at a time, leaving Susan trying to catch up, "I'll take the west, Su," he called back and made his way to the said direction.

As Edmund stepped completely at the top of the stairs he turned to the west and found the familiar sharp bend that led to the study. Edmund felt a strange moment's hesitation before shaking his head and walking on, glancing back at the empty passage behind him. The king looked around the wing and felt as if he was lost, lost in a castle he had familiarized himself with for years. He bit his lip and furrowed his brow, scanning the portraits of various Narnian creatures that were painted on canvases adorning the long wall of the hallway, alongside proud Narnian red banners. Edmund came to the first room, a furnished Drawing Room that would have been used when important nobility was visiting the castle. It reminded Edmund of King Lune's letter, and he made a mental note to himself to look into it again later on.

Entering, Edmund looked around the room and was greeted by the soothing scents of pine and lavender. Cair Paravel's rooms were always identified with their own scents, being from the area or part of the castle they were built, how often they were used, or for what functions they served. But Edmund was pulled quickly out of his trance almost at once, and he found himself calling out, "Eleanor?"

There was no reply returned after a few seconds. Edmund furrowed his brow and closed the door behind him, quietly walking through and looking behind large furniture, still calling out the princess's name. Finally, he gave up and he regretfully left the beautiful quarters with a careful shut of the door.

Edmund did this for all the rooms he found through the west hall until he finally sighted the study doors only a few paces away. The wooden structures were swung slightly ajar, as if someone had carelessly entered and forgot to close it. The king felt a cold shiver run down his spine and he slowly made his way to the study, finally making out a conversation of two hushed voices from inside, both of which were very familiar.

"Do tell, Teacher," said the first voice, a woman's. _Eleanor._ Edmund stopped before the study with a furrowed brow and looked through the line of vision the parted doors allowed for him. He could make out the center table and the back of the lady's body, seated on a chair. To whom she was talking to, however, the king could no longer see.

"Ah, there was the eldest, Prince Ludwig. He was a fine young man and would have made and excellent ruler—"

_Ortemius,_ Edmund thought at once and he set his jaw rigidly and laid a pale hand on the wood blocking the rest of his view.

"--Had he the chance. Princess Mathilda was only about a year younger than he, but the youngest, a mere child was named Princess El—"

When the king entered the study, he briefly caught the Old Teacher staring at Eleanor in bewilderment, his thick beard concealing a mouth that was obviously agape. Soon enough though, the Teacher recognized the presence of his liege and he pushed his chair back as quickly as he could to stand and pay the respects due from him. Eleanor first turned in her seat and then found herself standing up as well, all the time her eyes catching Edmund's calm stare. Eleanor remained silent, either of shock or of fear, and if it was the latter, Edmund wanted to know what had instigated it upon her.

The king turned his attention to the Old Teacher and bowed in return, "Good morrow, Teacher," said he, "Fancy seeing you here on such a fine midmorning in Narnia. Has your Council not commenced at the time?"

Eleanor was bemused by the unusually firm tone in Edmund's deep sound of a voice, and all the more did the king appear unapproachable for the blank expression he presently wore on his face. She also noticed in a moment that the king's hair was windblown, as if he had been making haste for a good deal of time. His face was slightly drained of color, and his lips chapped from the cold. But strange of all, Edmund easily concealed any sign of appearing as tired as he felt, and the lady only noticed the rise and fall of his chest to be very weak, and nigh as calm as natural.

"Yes, Your Majesty," Ortemius had replied, "I was, after all, only searching for more documents that may aid you and the other royals in your lessons."

Edmund gave a slight nod and glanced at Eleanor, "Indeed," he said slowly. _You have no idea of how common your excuse is beginning to sound,_ he thought and turned again to the Teacher, allowing his gaze to linger slightly on Eleanor, "Forgive me if I have interrupted anything," said he, by now having his full attention on the scholar, "But noonday meals are about to take place in the Dining Hall. I am to escort our guest, for my siblings may now have to forgive our tardiness."

"Certainly, Your Majesty," replied the Teacher, his eyes staring hard back at the king. Eleanor curtsied, "Thank your for your time, Teacher Ortemius," said she.

"The pleasure is all mine, Lady Eleanor."

By Edmund's gestures, Eleanor ushered herself out of the study and the king half-turned to his Teacher, "You are very kind," said he, "That you spend so much time looking for suitable documents for our discussions on Borovia."

Edmund was unsure of a flicker of fear that passed over the Teacher's face when he said nothing and bowed, "Good day unto you, King Edmund."

"And you."

Edmund promptly left the study and closed the doors behind him, tugging it until he could hear its latch shut securely.

"Forgive me, Lady," Edmund began as soon as he and the princess were alone in the hallway, "But if I may ask, what exactly do you think were you doing?"

Edmund watched as the lady regarded him with an icy glare, making him flinch uncomfortably. He was not at all reprimanding his guest, nor was he even the slightest bit angry, however we may say that the king was very confused by what he had seen in the study just moments ago. He was sure of what he had heard before he made his presence known. He heard the three names of the Varchovîch's heirs, with Eleanor's name interrupted by something he was not sure of. Why and how the conversation had even reached such as a state, Edmund was aching to know. Had not Eleanor clearly requested that her identity as the last Borovian survivor be kept secret until she permitted otherwise? If so, then why was she discussing Borovian concerns with the Old Teacher Ortemius, member of the Council, and resident of the Empire of Narnia for more than a hundred years?

"Forgive me, my King," replied Eleanor, "Had I offended you in any way."

Edmund furrowed his brow and walked closer, saying calmly, "I had not meant to negate you, Eleanor."

At that point, Eleanor realized she could no longer hold Edmund's gaze, not when he was this close to her, and not when she could clearly see the shade of hazel his eyes were tinted, for her mind began to vex her with images of her deceased brother. In her shame, Eleanor looked away, "I'm sorry," she said softly, "I had misunderstood."

Edmund nodded slowly and regret having put Eleanor in an awkward position, "What happened?" he asked, attempting to change the course of the conversation, "You suddenly left. We've been looking for you."  
Eleanor still had not looked up and she fumbled timidly with her hands.

"Lady?" Edmund asked, gentler this time.

_That tone,_ Eleanor thought sadly. She rarely heard such a gentle tone, and how she longed to have heard it from her family. But coming from Edmund, it seemed so different, as if she could still compare it to her family. Strange world. Eleanor looked up and tried to smile as reassuringly as she could, "I don't know," she said weakly. Edmund raised his eyebrows slightly and nodded, figuring the princess would not want to tell him yet, "Come," he said encouragingly and gestured for the lady to walk aside him, returning to the staircases in the east. Edmund sighed inwardly, wishing he could say something, _anything_ that would be smart enough to put Eleanor at ease. He then recalled a little advice he had received from Lucy before. 'The most complicated situations are sometimes settled by the simplest of words.'

"You know, Eleanor," Edmund began casually, still looking ahead of the hallway with slightly narrowed eyes as if he were thinking over what to say next, "You can tell me anything."

Eleanor raised her eyebrows at his words, and marveled at how openly they were conveyed, for she only remembered hearing similar things said by Lucy. She turned her attention fully to the king, "What do you mean?" she asked. Edmund smiled warmly, excellently hiding his agitation, "If anything bothers you, saddens you," he looked to his companion, "Or makes you happy, you can tell me."

Eleanor chuckled lightly at his final statement and was ever grateful that Edmund was not always as quiet and reserved as she perceived him to be, "Anything?"

"Anything," the king replied firmly. Eleanor nodded, "What if something angers me?"

Edmund raised his chin, "As long as I am not the object of your anger, feel free to approach me any time of the day."

Eleanor smiled and said, "I appreciate that."

"You ought to," Edmund replied, a glint in his eye, "I know you're horribly nervous just walking down this hall with me, when you have no idea how nervous I am walking with you."

It took a moment for Eleanor to understand the jest and she laughed good-naturedly when she did, covering her mouth with the decency of a true lady. Edmund glanced at her and was pleased with himself, having made her laugh, but when he saw the look in her eyes, how he wished he could make it last all the longer, for she, he will not hesitate to say, was so beautiful when she smiled, and her eyes brightened even the slightest bit in a display of mirth. But just as quickly as he saw it appear, it vanished from Eleanor's complexion as if it would take another decade for it to return.

When the two royals turned the sharp bend, they were greeted by extremely relieved Susan and Lucy picking up their skirts and jogging towards them with smiles on their faces, "Oh, Eleanor!" said Susan, "We were just about ready to have the guards finally roused."

Eleanor bowed her head in apology, "I'm sorry," said she, "I have been an object to your worries."

Lucy closed her eyes and prayed a silent thank you to the Lion before looking at the princess again and waved her hand smoothly in the air, a gesture she had developed when desiring to push a troubling matter aside, "All is well," said she, "And how good of Edmund to have found you."

Edmund smiled back and said nothing, his eyes conveying a message of thanks to his sister. It was then that the conversation had ceased to carry on, and Eleanor realized that was because there was one question the queens were wanting to ask, that Edmund already had: _What happened?_ The princess swallowed and Susan looked at her with a kindness Eleanor will never want to forget, "Given what had happened in the courtyard this morning, we shall make nothing of it."

"We assure you," chimed Lucy, although she very much wanted to ask Edmund if he knew otherwise. The Valiant queen nodded firmly, "And I hope your appetite is still with you for noonday meals," said she with the brightest smile she could muster despite her increasingly curious mood to voice her sentiments, very much aware of how untimely the comment might have sounded. But Lucy knew, and she was sure Susan and Edmund did too, that the sooner the mood could be brightened, the better. And she was willing to exhaust all the efforts she could rack from her brain.

Ortemius strode through the shelves again, rolling up the heavy sleeves of his robes halfway up his arms to get them out of the way of his hands that were now shoving books here and their on their shelves and drawers, his mind racing with notions that were alarming him at a rate he could never explain.

_So _this_ is what they were telling me about!_ the Old Teacher gritted his teeth as he accidentally caught his finger in a drawer he just shut. Cursing mentally, He quickly strode to the next shelf, running a trained finger over the spines of the books.

Here was a woman, and as far as he was concerned, an unknown guest at Cair Paravel who arrived with no common grand entrance or welcoming ball. What was more is that she was unusually interested in Narnia's history to the point that she had asked for a rather impromptu lesson with someone she barely even knew by name alone. Ortemius narrowed his eyes and tried to reconstruct an image of the lady in his mind. _Her hair fell in waves around her shoulders, and was the deepest auburn I have ever seen in a good while of my lifetime._ Ortemius pursed his lips as he slowly walked through the dim shelves, hardly minding the books that towered around him,_ Her eyes were the clearest, and coldest grey,_ the Teacher grunted, _I can hardly even place how they looked like now. _The Teacher suddenly whirled around and hurried to the other side of the study, reaching the shelves nearest the long table and aside the window. He ran his hands over the familiar line of books again until he came to an old leather bound text, the King Edmund's Borovian study book. Ortemius pulled it out with a skillful tug and flipped through the pages until he came to the pattern of the deceased Borovian family. His eyes ran from each monarch, from King Marthelius, to Queen Vericha; from Prince Ludwig, and Princess Mathilda.

Pause.

Ortemius laid the book slowly and deliberately on a lower shelf. _And this is the reason I have been summoned,_ he thought, his gaze turning to the doors, recalling how the lady had first entered and how she had promptly left in the company of the king. Presently, a vivid image of the lady returned to him, and he could fully and clearly see the features of her face. The teacher lowered his eyes again to the book and scowled behind his beard. His thumb had unconsciously fallen upon the child princess, Eleanor.

"Impossible," Ortemius muttered to the nothingness of the study as he placed the book back in its shelf. He must now make haste before he ran out of time.

Later that afternoon, Edmund found himself sitting in the elegant structure of the council room of Cair Paravel, in council with some of the members of the court, and the head guards. Noonday meals earlier on had appeared if not strained, quite awkward, given the conversation he and his sisters had with Eleanor in the east wings. He was also sure Peter noticed, and just didn't say anything. The High King had searched his way in the ballroom, apparently and met up with his siblings on their way down to the Dining Hall. Even then, Peter was sure something had happened, and he obviously decided to keep quiet. _He'll approach me later,_ Edmund thought knowingly.

Returning to the present as much as he could, the king unconsciously rubbed his right temple as he listened to the reports of his scouts regarding their sightings of Followers. He was glad that the sightings were being more and more rare, and much less worrisome than the first few years of his reign, but they were sightings nonetheless. There were always reports on two or four creature sightings every nine months, and much to the monarch's relief, even longer. But scouting was done nearly every week just to make sure. Peter had asked him to take over the councils that afternoon, for he needed to attend to a matter regarding the reconstruction of the borders leading to Archenland that had suddenly arisen. _Blast that witch,_ Edmund thought frustrated. When Jadis had frozen the main heart of the Empire, being Narnia itself, she closed the borders that led to the allying countries to bar the way of any aid that might arrive to her conquered country. Since learning this, the monarchy of Cair Paravel had decided to reconstruct that borders so as to allow safer, easier, and faster passages into Narnia. However, it had not been an easy task, and a lot of the members from the Court Division of Sorcerers have been going back and forth to the Main Library, struggling to find or recreate counterspells that they could possibly use, in hopes to decipher and terminate the strong and complicated enchantments still surrounding a great percentage of the borders. Progress was slow. In fact, one magician, a dwarf whose name also escapes Edmund arrived from the borders about a year ago missing his right thumb. Many said he was fortunate that that was all he had lost, however many were also very skeptical about commencing with the mission to destroy the magic guarding the borders, for not everyone could be so lucky. At present, Edmund was silently praying that no magician, and no High King Peter, would arrive today missing a limb.

"— recent sightings of a group of five Boggles."  
Edmund returned to his current surroundings with a sudden nod. The Griffin Brimgar was the one who had spoken, and his intelligent eagle gaze was fixed on the king, waiting patiently for a reaction. Edmund calmly straightened up from looking down at a detailed Narnian map, his finger falling on the area of Western Woods, "Forgive me, Good Griffin," he said, "What direction did you say your comrades saw the said Boggles flying to?"

"East of the Western Woods, Sire," came the reply, "To which woods exactly, they were unable to see."

"So they still know how to hide," Edmund spat bitterly, "No matter. They cannot do that for long. How many of your alliances can you send to scout for their whereabouts?"

"If I may beseech thee, Your Majesty," came a smooth voice. Edmund and Brimgar both turned to a raven standing at the other end of the table, drawing attention from the rest of the room. He stepped closer to the king and bowed with an extended wing in respect, "My flock will willingly scout the premises."

Edmund nodded, giving thought to the idea of sending the dark ravens to do the search, "Very well. What sayest thou, Good Griffin?" he asked. Brimgar bowed his head, his beak nearly touching the top of the conference table, "The task will be passed on, Sire."

Edmund returned to the raven, "Send as many ravens as you need, Darkperch," said the king, "And kindly remember to turn over to me a record of the ravens you send and when they plan to scout."  
"With a good will, King Edmund."

Edmund sighed and nodded to a Faun who was taking notes of the conference for his future reference, his quill scratching rapidly over a sheet of parchment, "You don't mind if this continues, do you?"

"I can extend my shift, My Liege," replied the Faun with a reassuring smile, "Commence."

Edmund looked very grateful and turned to Oreius, "Have you news on land, General?"

"The Western Woods are clear of any land Followers, and have been thus for two weeks and three days now, Sire."

"Excellent."

"The Dancing Lawn is also good. Queen Lucy has assured us that the dryads residing there are slowly starting to forget the difficult times of The Winter, and look forward to resuming their songs a hundredfold."

Edmund smiled inwardly, his thoughts drifting to his younger sister. Lucy always knew how to bring peace to Narnia, just as she had brought peace to him three years ago. He quickly pushed his notions aside, for the Centaur had not ceased speaking, "However, I regret to inform Your Majesty that one of my stallions was patrolling through the Owlwood, only a week and three days ago, and injured himself just above his hoof. A study of the wound led us to conclude the work of an Ankleslicer."

Edmund cringed and his fists clenched themselves instinctively. The entire room was now filled with whispers and agitated conversations about the news. Even the Faun had stopped taking his notes for his fear. The Just king could not blame them, however. Ankleslicers were the smallest of Jadis's army, but they were also some of the most fearful, and feared, creatures especially on the battlefield. Small they were, but one cut from the blades on their arms could have even the strongest knight howling in pain because of the dark art that laced the blade. Edmund had always been fortunate enough not to have encountered one during the Battle of Beruna and other previous scouts and campaigns during his early reign, but when he heard the bloodcurdling screams of his men that were unfortunate to have been otherwise, his heart always wrenched and any curse that left his lips was meant for those dreadful miniature barbarians.

"Silence, gentlemen," Edmund said calmly and the room quieted down in obedience. The king's eyes fell on Oreius as he said, "You have no doubt, General?"

Oreius gravely shook his head, "I have never heard a stallion as strong as Noreion scream in such pain since the Battle of Beruna, Your Majesty."

"How does he fair of late?"

"He is under the care of his family, but he has reported back to me full hand just last week."

Edmund traced his finger around the area of Owlwood, "Say where, General."

"On coordinate 189 E, Your Majesty."

Edmund admired the precision of the answer and made sure the Faun took note of such. He turned his attention to a nobility of the court, Master Quadrîn of Narnian Sciences, "If I send you and your men to 189 E, will you be able to study the earth and see if it is always tread upon by Ankleslicers?"

Quadrîn bowed deeply, his narrowed indigo eyes sure and confident, "Either that, Sire, or we die trying."  
Edmund smirked good-naturedly. The Master was always one for dramatic reason, "Master, I certainly hope you don't intend to go that far."  
Quadrîn smiled in return, "How many men do you wish for me to take?"

Edmund was now preparing to turn his attention to the next report, and so said simply, "As little as you possibly can, for King Peter might also need aid for the borders."  
"Aye, Your Majesty."

"And I'll be needing the names of the men," the king added as an afterthought, "Especially if you suddenly intend on seeking for the help of members from another court division. However, if thus happens, be sure to approach me first."

"Yes, Sire."

Edmund took a moment of thought before looking at a smart grey Hound regarding him expectantly, "Ah, and what news would you have for me?" Edmund knew he always seemed be humored by the Hounds of Cair Paravel, for what reasons he did not know. Let us leave such matters to him however, and proceed with the discussion.

The Hound nodded, "We heard howling a few nights ago, Your Majesty."  
"Of what sort, pray tell."  
"Wolves."

Edmund furrowed his brow. What was so unusual about that? Wild wolves howled to gather a hunt. And the Witch's wolves were now very scarce. In fact, Edmund was wondering if they have already reached their extinction.

The king leaned on the table, both hands placed firmly on the crisp parchment of the map, "Why should that concern us?"

"Their howls were of a hunt you do not wish to know about, King Edmund," came the reply, "Griffin Brimgar has said that there were Boggles sighted in the past, and that was around the same time our hounds had heard the wolves."  
Edmund shut his eyes tightly through the report, thinking, _They must have been summoned by those wolves, and for what reason I greatly wish not to find out._ The king raised his hand, "I beg you not to continue," he said wearily, "From which direction did you hear?"

"Owlwood, Sire."  
The king's eyes flew open and he frowned deeply. Have all the Followers transferred from the Western Woods to Owlwood? _I say, they are such idiots. Now they are much nearer Cair Paravel, _Edmund shrugged inwardly, _Oh, good. Less work on expeditions then._

"Coordinates?"

The Hound blinked, as if trying to recall, and replied, "176 E," he paused, "Your Majesty."

"Coordinate E," Edmund mumbled, "Oreius, had you not mentioned this as your Ankleslicer sighting as well?"  
"Correct, Sire."

Edmund shook his head and turned to Darkperch, "Send only the best of your flocks, Good Raven," he said, "I want the Owlwood scouted _properly."_

"Of course, Your Majesty."

The king said to the hound, "Send the best of your pack to circle the borders of the Owlwood. Do not enter the area, however. I do fear for your safety," he circled a finger around the area to show the Hound, whose eyes smiled with comprehension, "Look for any signs of the wolves' presence, and the wolves' _alone._ Leave the rest to the ravens."  
"With a good will, Your Majesty."  
"And send me a record of the names of the Hounds you send, understood?"  
"Yes, Sire."

Eleanor sat at her vanity, her necklace chain blithely scattered on the tabletop, her eyes fixed over the intricate detail of the lion head pendant. She traced a thumb over the designs, feeling for the indentions of where there were molded vines and floral patterns. The gold shone brilliantly under the afternoon light that poured sparingly through the balcony doors. The princess hummed and raised her eyebrows, as the lion's carved golden eyes seemed to stare back at her almost consolingly.

Eleanor sighed and let the necklace drop on her lap, resting in her warm hold, "Why can't I remember?" she asked to no one in particular. Presently, she was alone in her quarters, preferring to ponder her own thoughts and how her unusual day had so far commenced itself.

She had learned about her past, something she had been wanting to do for a considerable amount of her lifetime, and the more she thought about it, the more her heart ached to learn more. Eleanor jerked slightly as she felt a cold prickle on the back of her neck, and instinctively she whirled around in her seat. The princess bit her lip as she scanned her eyes over her quarters. Slowly, she stood up and walked around the room, still holding the necklace in her hand, the chain entwined in her fingers. The princess came to a stop by the bedpost and she leaned against it deep in thought. The quarters were as beautiful as ever in the afternoon, and in fact it seemed as if its appearance always changed depending on the time of the day you saw it.

In the morning, the room glowed with the warmth of gold and sun, and then the breeze from the balcony would tease the light curtains, making it dance and flutter like the trees outside. The wood of the furniture would change from its dark and polished finish, to a fiery red like mahogany, and the silhouettes cast by the interrupting sunlight on the carved designs of every piece in the large room was like an accent begging for the attention of an onlooker. Then at the peak of the day, or the afternoon as it is called, the colors became wonderfully vibrant and more defined, and one would notice them even more than how it would have been noticed in the morning. Every detail of embroidery to be seen on curtain, quilt, carpet and banner was refined to a degree unimaginable to even the greatest artist in the Empire. The shades of red, and blue, and orange, and cream, and green, and yellow were distinguished as clearly as one possibly can try. The golden Lion on the fireplace's coat-of-arms shown the brightest at this time, and because the life was seen so well in it, you could almost hear its loud roar.

But in the evening, the beauty was all the more grand and romantic, for this was the time when all the colors faded to a soft tinge of blue with purple, and pink. And when you light a candle to accentuate the quarters, well the beauty is indescribable, just like a lot of other things found in Narnia.

Beauty. Eleanor could only dream of a life that truly fit the word, for she was aware that for her, beauty and life should never really appear in the same sentence. Memories running between midmorning and noon rushed into her mind, and Eleanor recalled how she had so rudely bit back at Edmund without even taking a moment to understand what he was trying to say. And when he frowned confused and kindly explained that he meant her no scorn, his voice was probably the most sincere and gentle and _Just_ she had ever heard in her life. When the king offered his friendship, half of Eleanor wanted to resist his proposal, but the other half, being much stronger and desperate yearned for a friend. But by noonday meals, Eleanor realized just how much of a burden she was to the monarchy of Cair Paravel; or at least she thought she was a burden, for the princess found all four royals eating in an awkward silence, and poor Peter did not understand why.

Eleanor strode back to the mirror and stared at her reflection hatefully, "Oh, just look at you, Eleanor!" she retorted, "Making a mess of your own life and pulling others along with you. Pah! _Who_ are you?"

She froze.

Who was she? Many would probably answer, 'Lost Princess of Borovia.' But that would be wrong, for that answered the question 'what was she?'

But _who_ was the lost princess of Borovia? Who was she? Who is she? Eleanor let out half of a sob and half of a growl as she clamped her necklace on the tabletop and knelt, crying into her arms. Her shoulders shook as she, with futile attempts, tried to smother the broken sobs escaping her lips.

Here, say I, that the princess's pain at this moment is unbearable, and I will not make any efforts to really describe it to you. All there is to be said is that Eleanor no longer saw anything in herself, and saw no purpose of trying to know who she was, for it was her fault she had forgotten in the first place and she had no right to take back what she had so willfully thrown away, even if it was her very identity. Eleanor, lost princess of Borovia, lived a lie and will die a lie, for as far as she would be inclined to think so.

Just then, Eleanor raised her head and found that her fingers were still closed over the pendant. Hastily, she wiped her tears from her face and returned to looking at the Lion's head. She whimpered, "All I want is to know what happened to me," she said, almost as if she was expecting a reply. Just when the princess was about to surrender herself again to her tears, the Lion's head began to glow, and its eyes shown the brightest, so bright that you could see the lines the detailed each eye. Eleanor's breath caught in her throat as the head opened its great gilded jaw and the princess heard, as if from _within_ her, a fierce roar. She was at once forced to her feet and when she did, her eyes met the glass of the mirror. Eleanor froze in place. The mirror was black, as if stained by the darkness of the night during the very heart of a cold winter.

Eleanor looked closely and the blackness of the mirror was interrupted by mist that passed fluidly like silk. The princess suddenly felt cold, and very, very scared. But even then, she could not bring herself to look away from the mirror.

_Her reflection appeared shortly after the last signs of mist cleared the way, and then, through the mirror, Eleanor could see that she was in a very different set of quarters and it was the coldest of nights. Her reflection changed into that of the Child, sleeping soundly in bed, she saw in the goblet of wine and she gasped._

_The Child was roused roughly awake by a maidservant cloaked in black. The mirror seemed to present Eleanor with every face it could show her, and she saw, despite the dim lighting of the room, that the maidservant had the most emerald green eyes she had ever seen in her life. Her face was very pale and frightened, as if she was knowledgeable of a horrifying event that would take place in no moment at all. The mirror changed its viewpoint, and Eleanor found herself watching a most bloody and chaotic battle, of foot soldiers and terribly ugly creatures. But what creatures, for Eleanor quickly recalled what she had been reading in the library. These creatures were those who pledged allegiance to the most hated being in Narnia, _The White Witch._ The princess looked on as each and every soldier of Borovia was killed, either by magic or by opposing weapon, and fell in a heap on the ground, crying out curses or pleading for mercy. None would be granted, however, and it was made clear as they drew their last breath with the accompaniment of their own blood._

_The viewpoint changed again and now there was an old passageway, and there again was the unknown maidservant and the Child, conversing with each other as if they were in argument. And the maidservant was not unknown anymore, for Eleanor found herself whispering the name, 'Maria.' The Child wailed in protest and the maid forced the chain of a necklace around her little neck. Eleanor clamped a hand over her mouth. _She_ was the Child! She was that very little girl, and her maid was helping her make an escape to safety. As much as Eleanor now wanted to rid off the vivid imagery, to the extent that she wanted to destroy that very mirror, she still wanted to know what went wrong that night, and why she was the only escapee of her country._

_Her inquiries were soon answered, as the mirror changed again and Eleanor found herself looking on an open grassy plain that seemed to be behind a great castle. The maidservant, Maria she is now called, was talking to the Child but the little girl seemed disinclined to listen. Then, there was an commotion to the side of the two, and Eleanor saw why and _who_. _

_Jadis herself was smiling victoriously and the mirror presented Eleanor with the clearest image of the witch Eleanor would have never wished to see. The Empress had a face that would have been considered most beautiful, were it not for her evil being, and her frighteningly dark gaze. Through the mirror, she looked right at Eleanor and pointed at her, "_Dvélivrevich!_" she screamed._

_Eleanor grimaced and shut her eyes, wishing that when she opened them again, the mirror would be blank. But it was not to be yet, for when the princess did look again, she was greeted with the Maria's face now having given way for death to take her. And Eleanor allowed the first course of her tears to begin. She watched as the Child wept most bitterly and Jadis taunted her with fear._

_The mirror presented yet another face with no delay, of an elderly woman with piercing grey eyes and red hair let loose around her agitated face._

"_Mama…" Eleanor whispered and she held out her hand to the mirror, longing to touch the face, but as she did she realized the woman she was looking at was now dead, and her face was not pale, but white. Dreadfully white. Eleanor sobbed and saw another face. This time of a young man, perhaps slightly older than herself, and he had auburn hair and hazel eyes. He was the Young Man also from the goblet of wine._

"_Ludwig…" _

_Ludwig also fell dead, his eyes looking directly at Eleanor for a moment before he breathed his last. Eleanor's face crumpled in pain and so much sorrow._

_A young woman appeared before her, and her features were very much like Eleanor's, only more beautiful and refined. She looked as if she could have been the happiest woman in Borovia because of her bright eyes, but her expression was clearly of fear. Eleanor watched as the viewpoint shifted once more and showed Mathilda pulling the Child forcefully to run ahead. Eleanor realized she did it for protection, and Mathilda fell to the ground with a spear running through her, her mouth crudely covered in the blood she choked on. The Child screamed and wept some more—_

"_No more, please!" Eleanor screamed, now blinded by her tears as she stared at the mirror. Then, there was a flash of gold and Eleanor tore her gaze from the mirror, blinded by light._

When she looked again, she was only met by her own reflection. Eleanor's eyes widened in shock and she held a hand over her mouth in an effort to keep from crying out.

Silence.

Her chest heaved as she gasped for breath and the princess turned her back to the mirror. And she saw a few paces away, the necklace lying in a perfect circle on the floor. How it had come to be so, she was most unsure. Eleanor was very much afraid now, but she made her way to the necklace, and at once she saw the Lion's head.

_I will be with you all the way._

Eleanor furrowed her brow and suddenly…strangely felt very calm. She let out a breath and knelt on the floor, feeling warmer and warmer as she neared the necklace. But the warmth was not warmth alone, and it felt as if she was being embraced, and it had a gold of its own. How to imagine golden warmth is something one may think impossible, for it does sound rather preposterous, but Eleanor felt such, and she no longer felt her pain. There was a safety around her now, as if she had been secured and partially healed of her wounds. The princess swallowed as she picked up the pendant from the floor and held it in an open palm. The Lion stared back at her, and as Eleanor looked into its eyes, she felt consoled, and her heart returned to its normal and steady beat.

Eleanor wept again, but this time her tears were more of relief, and she held the pendant close to her heart.

Slowly, the princess rose from the floor and hesitantly returned to the mirror, looking through its clear glass and at her own reflection. She carefully wore the necklace and her brow creased upward in confusion. It was no longer radiating of its previous warmth, but now felt very cold against her skin. The princess sat at her vanity.

And as the lady continued to stare, she held up her hand again and reached for the mirror, and whispered, "You are the child."

**Author's Note: **

(Hey, vrangr, where is the Edmund/Eleanor _interaction?!_)

It's coming, it's coming!

Wow, I just realized I paired Edmund with another 'E.' Anyway, I'm sure some of you might already be wondering why Edmund and Eleanor haven't been having much to go with lately, but to keep it realistic (and for poor Eleanor's sake) we have to go slow ;D Phase 1: Getting to know you. So we're still in Phase 1, ok?

Ah, and what in the _Lion's Mane_ is Ortemius going to do now, hmmm? Well, I will update as soon as I can! And 'pauvre Eleanor,' anyone there, wanna offer her some consolation? Lol.

Again, thanks to all you readers!

_**Press Button Below ;D**_


	11. Chapter 10: Royal Riddles

**Author's Note:** Ok, really sorry this took a while. I hope you aren't too mad!

Anyway, this chapter should be something you'll like, since you _are_ reading it for the (*ahem-ahem*) romance, aren't you? lol! But if you're reading it for the adventure, there's lots of time for that later, y'know :D Well, enjoy _Royal Riddles!_

**Chapter 10: Royal Riddles**

That night, High King Peter found himself looking out the window of his study, hands clasped behind his back, and waiting for the hours to pass by as the skies and scenes of Narnia changed to welcome the evening. One would know the monarch was in deep thought, and I am to say that is regarding earlier noon. Peter knew there must have been something he had missed, and he was even reprimanding himself for searching in the ballroom long enough to do so. Lucy looked distant all throughout the meals, Susan was flustered and seemed as if she had just been going through a case of extreme stress, Edmund was strangely…slightly frustrated at the same time confused. Peter snorted in amusement. Edmund never knew how to sort his feelings very well anyway. But Eleanor looked scared and hesitant. All in all, the Dining Hall was as quiet as it would have been if it were empty.

A knock on the door made the High King start, and he swiveled around with a clear of his throat before bidding entrance.

Edmund had let himself in, shutting the door behind him as quietly as he always did. The dark haired king stared at his brother and offered a knowing smirk, "I thought I'd find you here," he said.

Peter smiled and gestured for his brother to take a seat before his desk, just as he sat himself behind it. When both were settled, there followed a silence that would have put Edmund ill at ease, if he had not already rehearsed what his business would be as of the moment.

"Is everything all right?" Edmund asked.

Peter, who had been looking at the floor, shifted his blue gaze easily to meet the concerned one staring back at him. He sighed, the kind of sigh that was just out of habit, "I was hoping you'd tell me, actually."  
Edmund nodded and still eyed his brother, a small smile playing on his lips as he cocked his head to one side, "That's a bit of a long story."

"Well, then," Peter smirked, "What would delight you of late?"

Edmund shrugged, "Has the borders' construction progressed?"  
Peter's face grew serious and he shook his head disappointedly, "Not at the pace I was hoping for," said he, "I thought we could do enough to allow safe passage before we invite King Lune and Prince Corin for their visit to Cair, but at this rate we haven't really done enough."

Edmund shifted in his seat, "And is that your only concern?"

"Winter, will come in only a matter of months," Peter continued, "If we don't secure enough progress in time, we may have to halt work altogether before it gets too cold. And then the borders will just freeze over again."

"That's a bother," Edmund agreed and gestured with a hand to emphasize a point, "But perhaps all we need is patience and luck," he said, "This isn't the first time we've dealt with such challenging circumstances."

"Correct," Peter grinned, "Why don't you send word to Anvard?"  
Edmund sat up with a smile at this one, "Regarding?"

"We will see how far we can really get through these borders. If we don't progress in a given three weeks, then we'll send out escorts to take the Archenlanders through the other side. What say you?"

"That sounds right," Edmund nodded, "I'll have a letter ready to be delivered by morn. Brightfeather should know the way."

"Excellent."

Edmund's heart fluttered inside at the thought of having the jolly Archenlanders come over for their annual visit to Cair Paravel, for he very well enjoyed their company. Perhaps he should go off and escort them himself? The young king was certainly warming up to the idea.

"And you," Peter said, "How were the councils today? Have there been any new sightings?"

Edmund set his jaw, "Boggles," he began, "They were seen flying from Western Woods and east, at the same time that a pack of wolves were howling them over."  
Peter's eyes widened.

"I mean, that's only my suspicion, as reported by the hounds," Edmund added hastily, not wanting to worry his brother, "The Followers can't possibly be planning anything at this time after three years. They are greatly outnumbered."

Peter grinned teasingly, "Numbers do not win a battle."

Edmund raised an eyebrow and rolled his eyes, "But for Followers, I'll bet they don't even help."

"Boggles and wolves, are they all?"

"Ankleslicers."

Peter leaned forward, "Say that again?"

"Oreius came to me with a report regarding Noreion having gotten wounded while patrolling the Owlwood."  
"Did they even _see_ the ankleslicer?"

"Nay," Edmund replied simply and held up his hand when Peter looked meaning to interject, "But their studies concluded thus. I don't think our medical specialists should make a mistake regarding an ankleslicer. I've sent Master Quadrîn and a handful of his men to scout the earth."

Peter nodded and leaned back again, "You received coordinates?"  
"Very accurate ones."  
"Good to know," Peter's eyes glinted pleased, "Have you sent other patrollers to scout?"

Edmund smirked, "Don't you trust me?"

Peter clapped his hands together, "A job well done, King Edmund," said he, "I daresay you'll be handling councils more often after this."  
"I look forward to it," Edmund replied with a sarcastic grin.

The conversation was again brought to a halt and the kings sat in silence, keeping to themselves, Peter more waiting for Edmund to proceed with the conversation. The younger king stared down at his hands, thinking upon how he should change the course of the subject, but he finally resorted to just bluntly say, "I found her with Ortemius."

"I'm sorry?"

"You heard me."

Peter furrowed his brow, confused, as it took him a moment's understanding to realize that Edmund had already veered the conversation to his previous sentiments regarding Eleanor and her presence at the west wing, "The west wing, right?"

"Yes," Edmund said and nodded his head towards the door, referring to the hallways outside, "In the Royal Study. Apparently our Teacher was there too."

"Ortemius," Peter said quietly, still a hint of perplexity in his voice, "What would he have been doing in the study at that time of the day?"

"According to him, there were no scheduled Councils for the morning," Edmund explained, as he had heard, "He decided he would look for more documents that could aid us in our lessons."

Peter chuckled, which Edmund found amusing when the High King said, "The excuses are either by Ortemius himself or you."

Edmund snorted and leaned back in his seat, "Come off it," he smirked. But the moment's mirth was put to an end as Peter's expression again turned very serious, "But what had you guessing that you'd find Eleanor in the west wing?"

"Guessing?" Edmund raised his eyebrows, "Well, I just figured that since Susan was looking through the east wing, I'd look in the west."

"And that was out of your own discretion?"  
Edmund stared at Peter, taken aback by the question. But there was something in the older brother's eyes that just told him to answer as honestly as he could, "Well, yes. Of course," the Just replied slowly. Peter leaned back in his own chair and averted his gaze for the moment. _That sounds like magic as well, mind you, Ed,_ he thought, but decided upon not saying that aloud, for he knew that Edmund was in a sensitive mood about magic now. After all, who would want to have anything to do with magic that is not even recognized?

"They were conversing when I found them," Edmund said again, hoping he could get Peter out of his thoughtful demeanor. It worked.

"You were eavesdropping?" Peter asked, his eyes glinting with game.

"Good Lion, of course not," Edmund wrinkled his nose distastefully, "I chanced upon such, only because the doors were left ajar. It's not unusual that the voices are heard through an empty wall, don't you think?"

Peter smirked, "Why should we be concerned about their conversation?"  
"Because they were about the three Varchovîch children."

Peter shifted and sat up, "And you're certain about this."

"How many names in Narnia will you find, Ludwig, Mathilda, and Eleanor, with monarchial titles to go with each name." That wasn't a question, rather a statement, and Edmund was aware that his brother understood. What Peter still couldn't understand however, was what he voiced out next, "But had not Eleanor said that she wished of no one else but us to know about her true origins?"

Edmund only nodded.

"Then, if that be right, why was she discussing Borovia with Ortemius?" Peter directed this more to himself, "Surely she hasn't known him any longer than she's known us."

Edmund bit his lip as a bothersome though crossed his mind.

"_You and the Council," he said carefully, "Being magicians and all. You saw the Long Winter?"_

_Ortemius continued to look over the books, scanning the yellowed pages and parchment as he mulled over the question. He turned to face the king and eyed him suspiciously, "Lived through it, my lord."_

_Edmund nodded, "Including you?"_

"_Quite so."_

_Edmund nodded and looked out the window, a griffin flying past signaling the change of shifts. He thought about his next question, one he knew he had to think over carefully again, "So then I suppose you have seen Borovia?"_

"_Is that a question, Sire?" _

"_Yes, it is."_

_Ortemius cleared his throat, "Yes. I have seen the country when she still stood on her powerful foundation." Ortemius laid down a book on the table and stared at the king._

_Edmund swallowed, his dark eyes stealing a glance at the newly laid down text. _So you have. How much do you know of her crown?

"_Have you met any of the Varchovîch?" _

_A strange smile crept over Ortemius's lips, sending a slight chill down Edmund's back, "Certainly, my King. To be sure."_

Edmund shook his head at once. _That's ridiculous,_ he thought and he pushed his sentiments aside.

"Ed?"

Edmund looked up and smiled uneasily, "Sorry, I was…went somewhere else for a moment-- you were saying?"

"Even if Eleanor lied about her origins for the time being, Ortemius would have guessed who she _might_ be," Peter said, "Auburn hair and grey eyes aren't necessarily the most common things in Narnia."

Edmund shook his head and furrowed his brow in thought, "That's my fear as well," he said softly. It was at that point, that Peter fully understood what must have gotten everyone else uneasy during earlier noonday meals, especially, as it obviously appeared, Eleanor. Edmund was also in a realm of his own, struggling to calm his already reeling thoughts about the many possible backgrounds of Ortemius and his connections with the fallen kingdom of Borovia, for if Ortemius was alive during the time of the Varchovîch and before, the chances of recognizing Eleanor even after all these years was still great. The Old Teacher was a sorcerer, and his skill was only matched by the rest of Cair Paravel's Council, and maybe even the dryads of the Empire. And even then, nobody knew who the Council of Cair Paravel truly was, for these sorcerers and apprentices were rarely ever spoken of and made known. It was a belief system of secrecy held onto by Narnia during its centuries and centuries of existence, and had never been questioned even by Jadis herself, bizarre as that might sound. But Edmund had had his fair share of experience with dark magic, and not necessarily all of it was as grand was one might really imagine it to be.

And if the Council really were sovereigns over such necromancy, as it was believed to be, would they know if all of Borovia were truly dead? And moreover, would they know who would still be alive? And what business would even link them to a perished kingdom only as vivid as the images and texts in books alone?

"Are you finally taking into consideration what I've told you in the past?"

Edmund shot his head up and found his brother staring at him with a knowing look on his face, "Yes," Edmund said honestly and a bitter taste on his tongue as he added, "Magic."

Peter nodded and looked thoughtful again, slightly narrowing his eyes as he asked his brother, "You want to protect her, don't you?"

Edmund shifted and raised an eyebrow, "Don't you?"

"Of course," Peter said and he slowly stood from his seat to pace the room, "As do Susan and Lucy." The High King stopped in front of his brother, looking down at him with full understanding and wisdom in his eyes, "But there is only one finger for every ring," he said simply.

"And you mean to say?"

"I mean she is the kind of person who reserves her trust for someone who will really keep it like a treasure," was the reply, "And whoever that person is, is all up for her to decide."

Edmund knew what that meant from there, and understood why Peter was saying such a thing to him, for Edmund had come from a mindset very similar to the lady's. He would understand her. And more than anything, the Just king wanted to protect her from making the same dreadful mistakes he had done himself in the past, and if he could not do it with sword and shield, then he would have to do it with words. To win Eleanor's trust would be the only protection he could offer her for now, and Edmund was willing to exhaust all the efforts it was obviously worth.

In the gardens, if it may appear to be a slight surprise, Eleanor would be found sitting alone on a stone bench, her hand feebly holding onto the pendant of her necklace, with the chain hanging carelessly towards the ground. The princess could feel the cold air of the nocturne biting at her skin, but she minded not, only because that for some reason, she had always felt that any sign of the presence of winter was the closest she could ever get to her family. But at this time, Eleanor could feel nothing but utter emptiness and fear, fear for what she had witnessed in her mirror, seeing the Child—her.

She saw _everything_ that had happened that night, and it was ironic that she still desired the heart of winter, the coldest of ice, and the harsh winds of every long night and dreadfully short day. Eleanor felt her eyes sting for the enth time that evening and fresh tears ran down her cheeks.

_Crying again?_ a voice sounded critically in her head, _Haven't you been doing enough of that lately?_

Eleanor grunted and shook her head, embracing herself and looking at her feet. For every tear that she presently shed, and for every tear she had ever shed in her life, it was always for her pain. Never had she experienced the horrid _lie_ called 'tears of joy.' Was there even such a thing? No.

At least, not for her there wasn't. And the princess's heart felt a sharp and sudden pang when she unconsciously recounted events in her life when she knew she cried, and it all started as that blasted mirror showed her, when she was struggling to escape her own homeland during a time she knew it actually needed her most. She was a princess of a coward, to run on and not fight back. How dare she—how _dare_ she to leave her mother to die alone. How _dare_ she to leave Ludwig to battle the witch and just cry a meaningless course of tears for nothing. How _dare_ she to leave Mathilda bleeding on the ground, and not sacrifice her own self so as to join her family; Eleanor chose, she chose because she was the idiot of a child to choose, to leave her family behind during the coldest of winter while she escaped and lived on. And what a life indeed! Nigh every day was scorn, every night a new nightmare, ever minute a waste of time. It did serve her right that she suffered the bits she had now. Hah! In fact, she was sure she would be finished before she even knew it. One could not grieve for so long. One could only tolerate so much a wound.

"Dvélivrevich."

Eleanor shot her head up at the sound of the curse. It took her long enough to realize she had said it herself. _What am I doing?_ she thought frantically and fell into broken sobs. _Death, death, death. All I want is to end everything!_ Eleanor clasped a free hand over her mouth to try the hardest she could to conceal her sobs, the sign of weakness, the symbol of stupidity, and the very insignia she was branded with ever since she left her kingdom. But the more she thought of these things, the more she failed to hide her crying, and as helpless as she appeared, she felt it too, a great deal. How she hated weeping.

_Is death so hard a thing to accomplish?_ Eleanor thought bitterly, _Why did I have to escape when the Followers found me in Owlwood? Then was my chance and I ran again, like the coward I am!_

Eleanor had never felt so deprived of something in her life, and for her it was strange and hated. She sat there on the stone bench, shaking violently as she cried on, brooding over other horrible things I certainly cannot write here.

The sound of arriving footfalls on the grass was not even enough to break Eleanor's train of thought, and therefore the princess failed to hear that someone was thus approaching.

Edmund heaved a heavy sigh as he shut his eyes tightly and ran both his hands through his hair and rubbed his face. Today had certainly muddled his mind, and the Just king felt he deserved to render himself a few stolen hours alone in the Royal Gardens, as he was always fond of doing when hungering for a time to sort out his thinking.

The night was particularly cold, hence Edmund had decided to wear a much more appropriate shirt and tunic, also for the sake of Susan's sanity. The queen would have his head if he fell ill out of not following her instructions regarding Narnia's ever-unpredictable weather. Edmund smiled as he stopped for a moment beside the brush, fingering the petals of one of the wildflowers. He sighed, his mind wandering off to the dryads that took great care of such flowers, and the thought of the dryads led the king to the thought of Eleanor. _There is only one finger, for every ring,_ Edmund pondered over the words of his brother and creased his brow worriedly. Shaking his head purposefully, the king walked down the familiar path to the stone benches, desiring very much to sit idly and wait for the hour to supper.

But as he rounded a bend in the way to the stone benches, Edmund furrowed his brow when he heard…_sobbing?_

Quickening his pace, Edmund craned his neck trying to look past the hedge blocking his view. He shoved the remnants of his eerily familiar nightmare out of his mind, half-expecting to hear the Borovian plea of the princess. And when the king finally did come to the stone benches, what greeted his eyes stunned him a good deal, for there she was, Eleanor, her back turned to him and struggling to keep louder signs of her sorrow to escape her lips. For a moment, Edmund wasn't sure of what to do, but again his dream returned to him, and the same longing of consolation took over his subconscious.

"Eleanor?" he asked carefully. The princess suddenly sat rigidly and turned to face him. Edmund took in the sight of her face at once, and it softened his gaze on her to a measure he never had done before. The lady's grey eyes were blurred with tears, and were so red and sore that Edmund wondered if Eleanor could still even see. Tears stained the princess's fair face, and her brow was creased in an instinctive reflex in a sign of pain.

Eleanor made to stand. "No, please," said the king, "Sit."

The lady nodded and weakly sat back, turning away from her new companion, allowing her loose auburn hair to conceal her face from Edmund's view. Eleanor felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment, for of all the people it had to be _Edmund_ who found her here. But then again, she couldn't really think of any better person. She could sense the king walking closer, clearing his throat, "Here," he said softly. Eleanor glanced to the side and found that a handkerchief was being handed to her. Politely, she accepted it, "Thank you."

Edmund stared down at Eleanor's small frame as she carefully wiped the tears from her face, "Is it all right if I sit with you?"

Eleanor quickly scooted aside, "Of course," she said, still softly, as if afraid to increase the volume of her voice. Edmund did seat himself down, close enough for a friendly space. He said nothing for a while though, to allow Eleanor to calm herself first as it deemed needed. But the lady quickly broke the silence and she looked up at him with worry, "I'm sorry, should I leave?"

Edmund raised his eyebrows, "Of course not," he said benignly, "What makes you think so?"  
Eleanor shook her head, "I wouldn't know," she replied, "I just…Do you come here often?"

Edmund nodded, "But what is wealth you don't share?"

Eleanor had no answer to that, but she was grateful for the king's display of kindness, and his presence warm and welcoming. Edmund blew out a breath, mist forming from his mouth as he did so, "This is a nice place to think, isn't it?"

Eleanor nodded and fumbled with her necklace. Edmund furrowed his brow curiously as he stared at the chain. His face drained of color.

_Edmund noticed the rest of Eleanor's wounds now. Around her neck was a reddish line, as if a thin chain had been torn against her skin. Her hands, which she had now used to grip the iron bars for support, had more cuts similar to those on her face. Edmund's dark eyes dulled with pain at the very sight of them and he met Eleanor's grey stare, "Tell me, Eleanor," he said softly, "What have I wronged you with?"_

_Eleanor tilted her head to one side and answered matter-of-factly, "You killed my family," she said._

Edmund swallowed quietly and slightly shook his head. How significant was it that Eleanor did have a necklace after all?

_Dreams are games of the mind,_ Edmund told himself willingly. He glanced back at the chain, "That necklace is very beautiful."

Eleanor let out a soft hum along with a feeble smile as she looked up, "Thank you."

"May I?" Edmund smiled kindly back. Eleanor nodded and opened her palm to allow him to pick up the pendant that faced upward with the designs gleaming smartly. The king stared at the gold as it shone under the moonlight and under the spared amounts of torchlight coming from Cair Paravel.

"It looks so Narnian," he said absently, running a thumb over the Lion's head.

"So I've heard," Eleanor replied with a knowing glint in her eye. Edmund smiled reminiscently as he continued to examine the individual chains of the pendant and he realized that each chain, though surprisingly small as it was, seemed to have an engraving of leaves. He raised his eyebrows in wonder, "The jeweler must have been very talented to forge this," he said and looked up at the lady, "Who gave it to you?"

Eleanor stared at him with saddened eyes before she turned away again. How was she supposed to answer that?

_Face him, you cowardly girl. Face him!_ Eleanor shut her eyes tightly, fighting back the tears.

Edmund soon realized his offense, "I'm sorry," he said truthfully, "I hadn't meant to invade."

Eleanor looked at him again with as much of a reassuring smile as she could, "It's all right," she replied, "I'm not myself at the moment, you know." She had blurted that out. Good grief. Edmund smirked inwardly and held both ends of the chain, "You know," he began, and to Eleanor's surprise, as he placed it around her head and lowered it to her neck. The princess helped him by keeping her hair away. "You ought to take care of it," the king finished and locked the chains in place. Eleanor felt the skin on her neck prickle slightly as Edmund's fingers accidentally brushed against it. Silently, the king withdrew his hands and bent to rest both elbows on his knees. He looked around the gardens with a quick glance before asking, "Do you come here often?"

Eleanor shook her head, "Nay," she replied, "But it's such a beautiful place. It's no wonder you come here yourself."

Edmund hummed and smirked, "I'm not the only who comes here all the time, mind you."

Eleanor furrowed her brow curiously as she entered the more open conversation, "What ever do you mean?" she asked quietly.

"Well, my siblings come here on certain times of the day and for their own reasons," Edmund replied, "Would you like me to tell you a thing or two?"

Eleanor could have chuckled at the mischievous look Edmund had in his eyes if it weren't for her low spirits still struggling to redeem themselves. She smiled mildly however and nodded, "Do tell."

"Lucy," Edmund began, "She's here often enough during the day. If not alone, she would be with either a dryad or a good centaur who knows about plants," the king smiled as he imagined his little sister when she was much younger and they had just begun reign as monarchy, "She started doing that the day after our coronation."

Eleanor smiled in return, "Yes, I do recall her telling me of how fond of herbs and biology she was."

Edmund raised his eyebrows, "Its no wonder you both get along," said he, "Especially since you also seem to know techniques in healing."

Eleanor blushed slightly at the recognition and as Edmund smiled at her with some sort of fondness, "She's always been keen on such things," he continued, "On herbs and biology as you have heard."

Truth be told, the Queen Lucy was renowned for her skill all across the empire from the distant north to the vaster south and over the seas to Galma. How she had developed the hands and passion for it however, still remains unknown for even the Pevensie siblings, and when asked they would simply reply that Narnia was the very reason. Lucy, of course, couldn't agree more.

The lady blinked, "She is delightful company."

Edmund looked away in thought, "And Susan," he said, "She comes here for the most interesting reason of all."

"Oh? For what reason?"

"Suitors."

Queen Susan was just as renowned as her sister across the empire, but for her beauty and her excellent arm in archery, which more often than not, men fell at her feet for. If Susan was not one of the most beautiful women in the lands, then she was _the_ most beautiful in the lands, and even through the first completed year of reign, many a noble would come to seek her hand in marriage. Then of course, none of the queen's brothers would hear of it, (much to the amusement of Lucy) and most especially when the intolerable behavior of a suitor is to be come across. If Peter's formal warnings would not drive them off, Edmund always had a way of being with the men for the sake of intimidation.

By now, Eleanor's spirits were certainly mended enough to let out a small chuckle. Edmund cleared his throat as, to his self-question, his heart raced slightly, and he shook his head to clear his train of thought, "I'm perfectly serious," he grinned.

Eleanor smiled back, "Of course," said she, "You certainly look it."

Edmund tried to wipe off the smirk from his face, but being the jester that he was, all he could do was chuckle along with the lady. The drollery lasted for a few minutes more until Eleanor suddenly felt strange.

How strange? Ah, she seemed to actually be enjoying the king's company, and she made herself aware of how cheerful he had made her in only a short matter of time. Eleanor shook her head inwardly and smiled at the ground as she and the king calmed the last of their merriment.

"Shall I continue?"

Eleanor looked up and found Edmund staring at her with curious eyes. She nodded eagerly, "Please do."

Edmund smiled and shifted in his seat to a more comfortable position before saying, "Peter comes here usually because of me," Edmund said a little solemnly and he smirked, "I mean when I run away from him because I've committed some nasty prank, like the last time I left a Dumb Frog under his pillow and he woke up all sore."

Eleanor clasped her hand over her mouth to hide the seemingly stupid grin on her face. That sounded just like Edmund indeed, and the king seemed to savor reliving the moment through words, "I shan't go on too much about that, however," he said, "Peter will have my head for it. Do be a good girl and keep quiet."

Eleanor smiled, "Certainly, King Edmund," said she.

That was most true, for Edmund had managed to catch a Dumb Frog, through the help of a servant naiad, and tucked it under his brother's pillow when he was still a boy and ruling a kingdom had not yet seemed too serious a matter for any of the monarchy. And as the story goes, High King Peter the Magnificent had a magnificent headache and a magnificent irritation for the whole day, both courtesy of King Edmund the Just.

Soon, the royals had fallen into silence again, and Edmund left the princess to her thoughts while he calmly searched his brain for something to keep up the conversation. Little did he know, Eleanor already had something in mind, and the lady quickly voiced this out, "What about you?"

Edmund glanced at her curiously, "What about me?"

"Yes," Eleanor smiled shyly, "You described and spoke so highly of your siblings. What about you?"

Edmund reddened and avoided Eleanor's eyes. He smiled nervously, "There isn't much to say about me, really."

"You have all the words for your siblings and none for you," the lady pointed out with gentleness, "Do you always speak so lowly of yourself?"

Edmund raised his eyebrows and looked up to reply, but he found Eleanor smiling at him, similar to the way Susan would when she felt smug and so 'logical.' Edmund laughed good-naturedly and shrugged, "Well…" he began and shot a challenging gaze at Eleanor, "Why don't _you_ tell me what I'm like?"

Eleanor was taken aback and she replied without hesitation, "I don't even know you well enough," she said honestly. That put the conversation to a stop as Edmund mulled over his next answer. In a moment, he smiled benevolently at the lady again, his eyes dancing, "Why don't we start now?"

Ortemius quickly made his way down the dark passage, eager to leave at once and escape any notice of the other residents, and especially the kings and queens, of Cair Paravel. Walking as briskly as he might, the sorcerer arrived at the end of the long hall and to a stairwell door that led to the back of the castle, and eventually to the Old Trail. The Teacher stole a glance behind him and gave a quick scan of the halls before he huffed and gathered his thick robes.

Pushing the heavy doors open, Ortemius made his way down the cold stairwell.

_This had better go as planned,_ he thought irritably as he rounded the way down, _I won't sleep another night if things go otherwise._ Through and through the day, the Teacher had been trying to understand who Lady Eleanor truly was, for strange was her very arrival in the study, and her utter curiosity in Narnia's history (and his own, Ortemius.) But When he saw the abstract pattern of the Varchovîch, everything had become clearer than the Old Teacher could even have hoped for. Lady Eleanor may not be a 'lady' after all, but the princess he had been searching for, for an expanse of his years.

He knew, ever since the feared night of Borovia and all the great sorcerers of the court division failed the kingdom, he knew that one of the monarchy survived when all he saw of the remains of the family was the King Marthelius, Queen Vericha, Prince Ludwig and Princess Mathilda. One was missing, and after all this time of searching he never found her. Still, there was always a sign of her presence, even before he found his place in the Council of Cair Paravel, and that sign made itself known to him through his rings.

Ortemius finally came to the end of the staircase and out to the back of the castle. A pain suddenly shot through his right hand, and the Teacher hid quickly in the shadows, staring down at his garnet ring. He grunted and peered from behind a pillar as a cheetah patroller walked stealthily on the grass, his piercing yellow eyes scanning the surrounding area. The guard stopped and then yawned, flashing all of his teeth.

Ortemius rolled his eyes and attempted to back against the stonewall of Cair even more, hiding his hand underneath his sleeve. He must proceed to the wood at once, before it was too late.

"_The three heirs, Teacher," Eleanor said carefully, her voice softening to a degree she had never meant, "Did you teach them as you teach the monarchy of Cair?"_

_Ortemius chuckled and shook his head, "Nay, Your Grace," he said, "I was part of the Court Division of Sorcerers," the Teacher suddenly paused and narrowed his eyes, deep in thought, "However, now that you have mentioned it, I do recall meeting the Highnesses at one important gathering. It was during the nineties of the Long Winter, and I in fact still remember their names."  
"Do tell, Teacher."_

"_Ah, there was the eldest, Prince Ludwig. He was a fine young man and would have made and excellent ruler," Ortemius swallowed, "Had he the chance. Princess Mathilda was only about a year younger than he, but the youngest, a mere child was named Princess El—" Ortemius suddenly paused and stared back at Eleanor, his eyes conveying a message of great perplexity._

She had to be the princess. She _had _to be!

It would be the only explanation that seemed logical enough to reveal why _they_ had been so agitated lately. Ortemius shivered as he watched the cheetah rise from his place and continued his way down the path passed the Old Trail. Ortemius looked up at the sky and shook his head. He knew of the sightings today, for such news about Followers got around the castle quickly. He had to take care of things, now that they were obviously very sensitive in nature. The Old Teacher braced himself and threw his hood over his head, and he made his way hastily down the trail.

If Lady Eleanor, for sure, were the princess of Borovia, he would find out tonight.

Edmund buried his head in his hands, laughing defeated as Eleanor giggled by his side. The two have been exchanging riddles to pass the time, and were very much enjoying vexing each other's brains as the puzzles got more and more difficult. Edmund, being a young man of much intellect, proved to be a fine match for Eleanor when he managed to answer the first few riddles directed at him. But he was in fact, also amused by how Eleanor could answer his riddles just as easily. However, the king had already missed three riddles, and now was his fourth. Eleanor was humbly displaying her triumph through her suppressed chuckles.

"All right," Edmund said and glared mockingly at Eleanor, "I've yet another one."

Eleanor shook her head and smiled, "Won't you give in?"

"Absolutely not," the king replied with a smirk, "Are you ready?"

The lady nodded in reply.

"_I'm a delight to your eyes  
And sweet is my scent  
But be mindful of touch  
Lest a prick, you get."_

Eleanor wrinkled her nose slightly, "How horrid of you."

Edmund grinned and shifted in his seat, watching as Eleanor stared into nothing for a moment, while her eyes narrowed in deep thought.

"A rose?"

Edmund coughed, "And _I'm_ the horrid one?" he asked. Eleanor laughed lightly, "I still have another riddle," she said, "Would you like to hear it?"

Edmund hummed and smiled.

"_I am given and received  
I am felt but not seen  
And if marred, I disappear  
And will only heal if you plead sincere"_

Edmund raised his eyebrows, "There are many answers to that," he said in slight protest. Eleanor nodded, "True," she smiled, "Unfortunately I can accept only one."

Edmund chuckled and sighed heavily, "Say trust?" The king laughed when the lady's shoulders slumped and she rolled her eyes.

"And I thought I had already confused you."

"Oh, you'll have to do much better than that."

Eleanor folded her hands leisurely on her lap. Being with Edmund was not as cold and reserved as she had thought it would be. And if that'd be so, then the king was truly different from his three other siblings, but in ways she would never be able to fully explain.

Edmund looked suddenly as three griffins flew overhead. He sat up, "Supper will be starting soon," he said and looked at Eleanor's comprehensive eyes, "We have to go."

Eleanor nodded and stood from the bench, preparing to leave. Edmund was faster to stand, after all kings do not wear long flowing skirts, and he anonymously shot his eyes towards the far end of the gardens.

Suddenly, he started and instinctively unsheathed his sword.

Eleanor's eyes widened, "What-?"

"Hush," the king said quickly and stared at the far side of the garden, his sword raised readily to the direction it was meant. Eleanor spun around and saw nothing. Her heart beat wildly in her chest.

With a frustrated sigh, Edmund sheathed his sword again, his eyes still fixed on the brush. _I'm tired from the day, and now I'm seeing things. How spectacular._ Edmund bit his lip with hesitance, "Did you see anything?" he asked. Eleanor shook her head and stared at him with uncertainty, "Did you?"

"I…I thought I did," Edmund replied absently. He was almost sure enough that he saw a pair of beady eyes staring back at him, but to what beast it belonged to exactly, he could not quite make out. It was just too dark. Yet, Edmund couldn't shake off the feeling that he had seen those eyes before…

"Bother," he mumbled and gestured to Eleanor, "Never mind, I could be wrong."

Eleanor did not say anything aloud, but she knew that the king was only trying to calm her nerves. She nodded silently and walked ahead, Edmund following a few moments after, taking glances behind a few times.

Within minutes, the royals found themselves walking on the front path of the castle and nearing the main entrances of Cair Paravel, where two Satyr Guards stood in post. However, both monarchy looked up at the unexpected sound of a bird's cry. Edmund recognized a smart-looking hawk beating its wings evenly as it circled around them. The king smiled and held out his arm and the hawk took to the welcome at once. Eleanor raised her eyebrows in awe as she saw the creature land gracefully on the king's arm, "Greetings, King Edmund," he said in a calm and firm voice.

"Greetings to you too, Brightfeather," Edmund replied, "Back from the hunt?"

"Indeed, Sire," said the hawk.

"You don't sound too happy about that, Good Hawk."

"Winter cometh," came the reply, "The hunt is difficult."  
"I see," Edmund smiled understandingly, "But what brings you to me on this fine evening?"

The hawk cocked its head and blinked its eyes, "Forgive me, Your Majesty," said he, "But I feel quite obliged to greet your companion."

Edmund slapped himself mentally. He had forgotten to introduce Eleanor, "Of course," he said and turned to the lady, "Apologies. This is Lady Eleanor. She visits from the West."

"Salutations, Lady Eleanor," said the hawk with his jerky sort of a nod, "I am Brightfeather."

"Good evening, Brightfeather," Eleanor smiled and nodded in return, marveling at how beautiful the hawk appeared before her. He then turned back to his liege, "The High King has informed me, Sire, that you plan on having a letter delivered to Anvard by morn," said the hawk, "At what hour would you desire me to be at your perch?"

Edmund smiled pleased, "Three after dawn," said he, "Can you also wait if King Lune sees fit to reply?"

"Certainly, King Edmund," Brightfeather bowed his head.

"Excellent," the king raised his arm higher, "Be on your way."

"With a good will, Your Majesty," said the hawk as he flew off, "And pleasantries, Lady Eleanor."

Edmund smirked as he watched the hawk make his way to the direction of the highest battlements. He looked back down at Eleanor and found her smiling peacefully, "Graceful creatures, hawks are," said he.

Eleanor turned her head abruptly to Edmund and agreed, "Oh, they are."

"Come now," said Edmund, "We wouldn't want to be delayed."

Eleanor bit her lip and hesitated for a moment before saying, "Edmund?"

Edmund hummed.

"Thank you for talking to me," Eleanor said, "I didn't quite like being…well…"

"Alone?" Edmund asked gently. Eleanor nodded and avoided the king's gaze. Edmund shrugged and offered his arm, "Man were not meant to be independent, or so they say," he said wisely. Eleanor smiled and accepted the king's arm, "Truth, be told?"

Edmund smiled back, his eyes glinting knowingly under the torchlight, "Definitely."

**Author's Note:** Ok, so how 'bout some opinions there, eh? : I know you've got some. Lemme hear 'em! Thanks for reading!

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	12. Chapter 11: The Marionette

**Author's Note: **Thanks to all of you who have been so patient and still continue to read and enjoy this fic. I am SO sorry that this was a long wait for you guys! Sadly, this is partly because I suffered from a severe case of writer's block. Y'all know that sucks, right? Haha!

My special thanks goes to my friend who would like to be known by the alias, Max, whom I would never have accomplished this without! Also, many thanks to the film _Anastasia,_ for inspiring the mood of this chapter!

So, on to _The Marionette!_ :D

**Chapter 11: The Marionette**

Because of the afternoon council meeting with King Edmund, the night patrols had decided to take immediate action. All residences within Cair Paravel, most especially the guards on night shift, were all called to keep a keener eye out tonight for any new sign of disturbance at the exteriors of the castle and within the vicinity of the Owlwood, where it was suspected that the said Followers were currently in hiding. Lëndor, a night griffin presently flew overhead the castle towers, waiting away his end of the shift with dutiful patience. Brimgar had given all griffins their respective instructions on how they were to patrol Cair Paravel tonight. If any sign arises that there may be a Follower or some trouble within sight, help must be called for at once. No guard was to face a danger alone. Lëndor was aware of how serious the matter of having three Followers sighted at once was. Personally, the griffin had had his share of direct contact with the Witch's side because he himself had been turned to stone during the Hundred Year Winter, and the four Pevensies had not yet arrived. Lëndor recalled how hopeless he had felt when Jadis towered over him, her wand raised over her head, taunting the griffin of his last breath to be drawn.

As he stared up fearfully at the wand, his gaze flitting from the Witch to her magical instrument, Lëndor expected pain, but it never came. Instead, it was as if he had fallen into a deep, sudden and enchanted sleep, and when he awoke, he found himself looking into the eyes of the Great Lion. _Aslan_ Himself had come to rescue him, together with the two majesties, Queen Susan and Queen Lucy. Moments after that, Lëndor found himself fighting alongside the two other royals, King Peter and King Edmund, who were already weary from the previously slow progress of the battle. Ever since then, Lëndor knew that no matter what may come to him, his allegiance would forever belong to Narnia and her good monarchy.

The Narnian's sharp eagle eyes scanned the grounds and flew by the battlements when a hawk suddenly barred his way.

"Greetings, gent," said Brightfeather. Lëndor swerved to the side, skirting the other flyer with skilled ease, "By the Lion's Mane, Friend Hawk," said the griffin with an amused chuckle, "What brings you here to the battlements?"

"I had just shared word with the King Edmund," replied Brightfeather as he perched himself neatly on the battlement's stone rails, "Have you heard the news on the councils?"

"Certainly," Lëndor replied with a brisk nod of his head as he too settled on the battlement, "King Edmund himself held council today, for High King Peter had to attend to the borders' construction. Word is all over the castle. Do you think action will be taken soon?"

Brightfeather fixed his eyes on his comrade with a very intelligent glint before saying, "I trust scouts are being sent to the Owlwood later this evening to keep watch."

"You don't say," Lëndor said with interest. The hawk ruffled his wings audibly in emphasis, "Darkperch's best flock will be taking to the skies, and a good strategy that is too, might I add, for the ravens are nigh invisible at night."

"Though they must take care not to get too close to the ground."

"True, Good Griffin, very true," Brightfeather agreed, "But if the wind blows tonight then they can hide in the rustling leaves of the forest trees, where they may be able to conceal themselves well enough."

"What is their mission exactly?" asked Lëndor.

"I know not," replied Brightfeather, "I after all am not a head guard myself."

Lëndor hummed, "Indeed," said he, "I do wish the griffins would have been sent," the guard, like any loyal Narnian of the Four Thrones, lived and desired nothing more than the pleasure of an enemy's capture, and eventual death, "But I suppose our golden fur will do no good when the moonlight comes."

Brightfeather nodded in his jerky manner, "Gerinda and the hounds are also scouting for the wolves."

"How is it that you know these things?" Lëndor stared at the hawk in disbelief. Brightfeather merely chuckled, "Word gets around quickly, especially when one is in post as a _messenger."_

The hawk let out another hearty chuckle before he spread his wings again to take flight, "Now that I've 'filled you in,' I supposed you should return to your patrols. I don't want both of us to get caught for gossiping, eh?"

The griffin spread his wings evenly while saying, "Very good, friend," said he, "Till the next time we meet."

"Till then, Lëndor."

Word of the Followers became more prominent, and _exaggerated,_ (for people claimed to have seen ogres and one of the surviving polar bears) through the agitated whispers of those homed within the walls of Cair Paravel, beginning from the High King to his guards, from the cooks to the servants, and even from the stablehands to the horses. Such especially reached the ears of every Master of the courts, and thus the ever-silent Council of Cair Paravel. And presently, as the sorcerer Ortemius made his way fitfully through the forest trails of Owlwood, he knew what sort of a risk he was taking to complete the mission he had so willfully vowed to accomplish. From what the Teacher had heard, the sightings were of boggles, ankleslicers, and wolves. And as suspected, the boggles and wolves were plotting whatever they might against the four royals of Cair.

This was the danger that in the very wood of which the sorcerer was making his way through, was actually inhabited by the most fearsome creatures of Narnia's time. However, Ortemius was aware that he could not withdraw from a century's worth of work.

He remembered what he had told the Lady Eleanor, and many other loyal Narnians of his past, that he had witnessed the Kingdom of Borovia and her sturdy way of life. When such came to mind, Ortemius recalled what a jolly country it actually was, for he had seen it even before the Long Winter began its course. When the sorcerer was still under the court of Anvard, he together with a number of ambassadors would travel across the Empire as representations of the monarchy that could not make themselves present at certain times. Borovia was once part of Archenland's allegiance after all, and Ortemius could still remember what good things the countries had done for the benefit of the Empire.

Then, as time moved on Ortemius traveled to the far lands of the east, to cross the seas and take his place in the Galmaan court, just when a certain White Witch was said to be making her presence known in the Western Woods of the lands, which was fairly close to Borovia. Ortemius believed that he was still a part of the country's allegiance, and therefore willingly submitted himself to be a part of the Magical Defenses of the Régaléanovîch Court.

Within decades, the country had seen different royals of her crown rise and fall, and even poisoned, before they finally came to a certain family of the Varchovîch. And it was this family Ortemius was interested in, for it had become the last to stand before the Witch. Even after the many years of nonexistence, the very memory of it had pushed the Old Teacher to search for the mysteriously missing body of one royal, whose remains were never sighted among those who had fallen that night.

The body in fact belonged to Princess Eleanor. Some said that being the youngest and of course, the most _precious,_ of the family, the Witch destroyed her completely. But a very small amount of others, others like Ortemius himself, believed she wandered Narnia's Empire, aimless and undetermined. In the darkest hour of the country, the sorcerer was there to witness everything that had taken place, his every sense was aroused by the signs of death; his eyes had filled with the sight of the fallen, his ears were pressured with the sound of the despondent, his nostrils overwhelmed with the scent of blood, his skin prickled violently with all the sensations put together. Ortemius could still recall the meaning of war.

A reckless cry suddenly sounded overhead and the Old Teacher hastily made his way under the cast shadow of a tree, "Of all the ridiculous--!" he spat and looked up, at the sight of a single boggle flapping its membranous wings northward over the trail. Ortemius grunted and looked behind him, half expecting to see a wolf or an ankleslicer at his tail. When naught but extended trail grounds and fog greeted his vision, the Old Teacher continued his way down the trail, keeping close to the shadows.

Within the longest minutes of his life, Ortemius finally came to an acquainted landmark, one he had seen other nights before: the Birch tree. The sorcerer rolled up his sleeves and wiped his brow with the back of his hand, "I have no patience for this," he huffed to the old bark, "Nor do I have much time."

"That is quite understood."

Ortemius whirled around, his eyes widening as they fell upon a large wolf with its face fixed in a menacing growl. This wolf looked familiar. A jagged scar ran from his left golden eye and down to the right of his snout, and there was a certain pitch in his voice that made Ortemius recall how cold a prevailing winter always was.

The wolf paced his way closer to the Old Teacher and snapped his large jaw, "Time is something none of us have these days, and it's a pity," he said, a rumbling growl accompanied every word, "Ever since _your_ monarchy destroyed our century's glory, everything was turned around to an angle we could not possibly balance on."

Ortemius backed into the birch and swallowed, his hands clenching into fists, "And now what will it be, Wolf?" he asked, "Have you come to accuse me of fallacy?"

The wolf laughed darkly, "You know what I've come here for," said he, "Because it's the same reason you're here yourself."

Ortemius held his breath and remained silent, and at last his mind began taunting him of what trouble he had now placed himself in. This was part of the mission, he knew, but he wondered if it was really the right and wise thing. He wondered if it was really time.

But before the Old Teacher of the Council could deepen the course of his thoughts, his ears were met with the words he had dreaded for so many years, and he shut his eyes tightly as the wolf continued, "I know where your allegiance lies."

Edmund rubbed his sleep-deprived eyes for the third time that evening, as he leaned back in his seat after being bent over a parchment of paper for a good hour. He had excused himself from the table earlier than the others, wanting to get to his study so as to complete his last paperwork of the day: the letter to Anvard. The young king heaved a sigh as he stared over the careful cursive that now appeared like faint lines on an off-white background to his tired eyes. That was when a faint knock sounded on the door, "Come in."

Lucy poked her head inside, a kind smile on her face as she continued into the room, closing the door quietly behind her, "Your Majesty," said she looking into the king's groggy expression, "Won't you make leave and rest for the evening?"

Edmund chuckled and his eyes fell on a thin package with string in Lucy's hands, "And what would that be?" he asked. Lucy raised her eyebrows and stared down at the package for a moment, as if trying to recall what was inside, "One of your personal guards brought it to the Dining Hall only minutes after you'd left," she replied walking forward and handing it to her brother, "I said I'd take care of bringing it to you."

"Thanks, Lu," Edmund smiled, pulling at the string until he opened a flap to make out sheets of parchment neatly spread on top of one another. He knew that they were the records he requested for from the head guards that afternoon. Lucy took the liberty of taking a seat before the desk and she watched as her brother thoughtfully scanned the papers he had just received, "What are they?"

"Records," Edmund replied, "Apparently our patrollers have decided to scout this very evening."

"Oh!" Lucy jumped slightly in her seat, "Is it safe enough? Surely whatever plan they have managed to construct was in haste."

"I'm sure Darkperch and Gerinda know what they're doing," Edmund said with a finality that put the Valiant queen at ease, his eyes still reading the papers in his hands. Lucy nodded, at her age able to comprehend these matters of business and asked, "What flock and pack?"

"I've allowed them to take the best of their scouts, which means they may be taking from more than one flock and pack," Edmund replied, rearranging the parchment so that he was looking at two at a time, "As far as I can see, Darkperch has recruited ravens from the flocks Etesian, Föhn, and Chimera."

"Ah," Lucy said and grinned, "And I suppose you will say with pride the names of those whom Gerinda has sent?" Lucy knew of her brother's fondness for the hounds.

"Listed are Shidhena, Brindor, and Lienz," the said the king, naming the three packs of hounds, "There are about two to three scouts from each flock and pack sent to the mission tonight," he added and winked at Lucy, "Sallowpad is one of them."

"Oh, Sallowpad!" Lucy clapped proudly. It seems that every monarch had his or her own favorite Narnian. Although for Queen Lucy, she had many a favorite, which was a fine line between her dear friend Mr. Tumnus, the Beavers, the Tree People, and of course Sallowpad the Raven, whose skills included that of a scout, a messenger and an intellectual conversationalist, much to the amusement of Edmund. Lucy unconsciously hummed to herself as she watched Edmund dip his quill into an inkwell and begin noting whatever-it-was on the records, mumbling anonymously to himself. Lucy smiled, pride welling inside of her for her brother. She had watched her siblings grow into Narnia, and Narnia grow into her siblings. And out of all of them, the most change she could ever see was in Edmund. Lucy could still remember what a horrid thing he was when he was much younger, always seeing the joy in her misery, and picking on the younger students at school. And although that was a long time ago, in fact Lucy could hardly remember it, she could never believe how much Edmund had changed to become the wonderful sibling, and _Just king,_ he was really meant to be. She loved him dearly, to be sure. And it was this love that led her to quite valiantly bring up the following conversation.

"Eleanor was quite at ease this evening, did you know?"

Edmund's quill suddenly stopped its monotonous scratching on the parchment, yet the king refused to look up. Lucy continued as casually as she could, being careful for her voice not to make it appear overdone, "Susan also believes you'll be sleeping more soundly because of it."

"What are you getting at, Lucy?" Edmund asked quietly, his eyes still glued on the parchment.

"Edmund," Lucy said reproachfully and leaned on the desk, trying to catch her brother's eyes, "Why don't _you_ tell me your side of the story?"

At that, Edmund did look up with a surprisingly calm expression on his face, save for his dark eyes that flashed rather brilliantly under the faint torchlight of his study, "I thought Susan would have told you," said he, and added with slight emphasis, "Or maybe even Peter."

Edmund stood from his desk, not really sure why he did and walked over to his bookshelves, running his pale fingers over the spine of each literary piece pretending to be scanning their titles.

"Edmund, please," Lucy said again, remaining patiently in her seat, "If it's any comfort to you, I didn't talk to Peter."

Edmund pulled out a tattered leather-bound book, _Lenorh & Prim's Guide to Taxation Rates,_ and sighed feeling quite useless, "So what do you know then?"

"Only that you've been having dreams."

Edmund then felt a shiver down his spine, images of a lady whose face was etched over with pain and suffering flashing into his mind almost subconsciously, like a machinery triggered by a faulty switch. He shook his head and flipped open the book to a random page.

"Edmund, don't try to look like you're actually reading that. You've known taxation rates across Narnia ever since you've taken up further Arithmetic with Ortemius."

Edmund nodded absently and flipped to a page he again hadn't intended.

_List of tax rates across Narnia: Every country will have a difference in the tax rate as far as being under the sovereign of Narnian law is concerned. According to the Declaration of Taxation Rates of section 275 of Chapter I, Subchapter C, Part I, the independent countries of Galma and Terebithia will differ the most, due to their government system that serves as the secondary seat of power to the Imperial Throne._

Edmund set his jaw, the said list automatically preceding itself in his mind even before he could regard the substantial one he now held in his hand. Having thoroughly studied these details only very intensely, as Queen Lucy had previously mentioned, with the Council Teacher Ortemius and the Court Master of Accountancies, Master Rüben, Edmund found his brain unconsciously chattering, _Galma pays five point three to seven percent worth of Trade, and Terebithia exactly five to seven point two percent worth. This is based the decision of terms of their seat of government, and location across the sea, making traveling along the routes more—_Edmund shook his head vigorously and looked up to find Lucy regarding him with a knowing gaze.

"Lucy," Edmund began, rather defeated and walked back to his desk, setting down the large text of _Lenorh & Prim's_ heavily enough to make the inkwell rattle in slight. Lucy had instinctively held onto the small bottle to save her brother from any frustration of spilled ink on the still-fresh parchment on his desk.

"What is the taxation rate of Foreign Trades in Ettinsmoor?" asked the queen. Edmund rolled his eyes, "Depending on their seat of government, which is very much unstable might I add, the tax rate of FTS in Ettinsmoor can begin from ten percent up to sixty percent, which is of course considered rather high and why the giants would love to have us for supper. But under the Royal Decree of section-"

Lucy sniggered unexpectedly and Edmund realized that he had been an object of a jest. The corners of his lips twitched slightly as he said, "Why, you…"

Lucy smiled kindly, "Is that how much you've got on your mind?" she asked. Edmund raised an eyebrow, "What do you mean?"

"Just listen to yourself. You've been working like a servant of your own master ever since your dreams supposedly started," Lucy said with an innocence that softened Edmund's gaze. He was then reminded that the Valiant queen had developed a skill of judgment and capability of deduction that nearly matched his own, making hiding secrets from her very difficult. If there was one thing that allowed the King Edmund and Queen Lucy of Narnia to be an object of political and monarchial congress across the Empire, it was by their shared skill of good judgment.

Ortemius stood before the Followers, his mind reeling with thoughts of his fate and his past. A hag, Kvraísta by name had perched herself on a large rock a distance away from the Birch, at her side was the werewolf Brömsborum whose eyes were fixed on the sorcerer with dark purpose. The wolf however, Thrövgrim who had made himself known before the other Followers was pacing around the Council Teacher with a stride that forced the sorcerer to occasionally look behind him whenever necessary, as if doing so would protect him from the sharp fangs that could sink well into his flesh. Ortemius knew them all, by name, by personality, by history.

Kvraísta, once the most loyal of a colony of hags was believed to be the brutal murderer of many a Narnian, often getting to them first when the Secret Police were elsewhere. Brömsborum, the keeper of suffering was once a part of a powerful pack in the night army of the Witch, when during the first few years of her hundred year reign, he fed on Narnian prey more than what was needed to sustain himself and his companions. But Thrövgrim was none other than the second captain of the Secret Police, the brother of Maugrim, fallen to the blade of High King Peter, who had inflicted fear and cowardice among the good Narnians of the Western Wood and beyond; his howl at night was as distinct as an illustrious gemstone amongst a pile of rocks, thus he had usually served as the signal to gather a hunt in the pack.

Once upon a time, Ortemius, Sorcerer of the Régaléanovich was part of all of this. And tonight he found himself, not for the first time in his life, but for the second, pledging his allegiance to the arms of the Empress Jadis.

Thrövgrim growled darkly, "How much of your monarchy know of our whereabouts?"

"You'll have to watch yourselves," replied the sorcerer, "The King Edmund has sent scouts this evening to search for you."

The wolf narrowed his golden eyes in anger, "How did they find out?"

"Fools," Ortemius snapped, "Do you not understand that we are no longer as powerful as before? Narnia's land is treaded by guards day and night, all to make sure that none of you is still existent," the sorcerer turned towards the Birch tree, grimacing under the burning feel of his ring under his sleeve, "When you rounded up the Boggles and Ankleslicers, the guards found you. Tonight they expect success. You must hide. Well."

Kvraísta hissed and fell lightly on the trail ground, raising her claw with an unusual twist of her fingers. Her face was fixed in an expression of that of unsatisfied curiosity, and an evil that fed entirely on misery, "But have you found the one we are looking for?"

Ortemius turned to face the hag, a dangerous glint in his eyes. His lips curled into a dark smile, and he paced forward in slight, "I know what you are looking for," said he, "But I have yet to ensure of its whereabouts."

"That's not good enough," Brömsborum growled, landing on all fours heavily on the ground, "Time's running out, and we still have to-"

"I know what is still to be done!" Ortemius retorted, flashing his garnet ring to the Followers. At the sight of the gemstone, all of them had backed away, except for Kvraísta who had remained in her place and in fact walked closer with an eerie silence. The sorcerer hid his hand back in his sleeve, ignoring the Follower, "I have my ways of extracting information from the residences of the castle."

Thrövgrim shared a glance with Brömsborum, and he received a firm nod in return. The wolf sat back, his teeth bared, "We have been sending spies nearly every night to see to the kings and queens," said he, and added after a pause, "And to their strange and untimely guest."

Ortemius squared his heavy shoulders and narrowed his eyes, scanning the trail grounds around him again, even as Thrövgrim had settled in a place aside the werewolf.

"And you can do that no more," Ortemius replied slowly, decisively. The Old Teacher paced forward as the Followers made way for him to stand on elevated earth, "Listen to me," said he, "I know of whom you speak, and she may or may not be what we think."

"How are we to find out?" Kvraísta asked, her thin voice the sound of a mere whisper in the air, "How will you find out?"

"Security around the castle grounds has tightened since your exposure. Our only choice is to work within Cair Paravel."

Brömsborum growled, "You know that we cannot do that any more than we can send spies at the dead of night."

"You can't," said the sorcerer, his eyes darkening in their appearance, "But _I_ can."

"You will destroy us all," Thrövgrim barked, the two others nodding in agreement, "If and when you are caught, that will be the end of it-"

Ortemius held up his hand to silence the wolf, his face a picture of a strange and doubtful calm as he met the golden eyes of the Follower, "I will not fail our Empress _this_ time, Wolf," he said, "I will bring to you the blood we have all been waiting to spill."

"We are not the only ones who need to take care of our footing on rough terrain, Ortemius," Brömsborum said, sizing up on his legs, "Only recently, there has been a report from Thrövgrim's pack regarding the kings."

At this, Ortemius raised his eyebrows and he looked suddenly at Kvraísta whose presence was beginning to place him in discomfort. The hag said, "The King Edmund," she began quietly and purposefully, "I believe he knows something is amiss."

Ortemius furrowed his brow, aware that this truly may be so, especially given the past circumstances that had occurred in a matter of days, "What is it that makes you think thus?"

Suddenly, all Followers, for they had much keener senses, looked up and tensed.

"We must leave," Thrövgrim said, _"Now."_

Ortemius felt his heart quicken in pace as he realized that the Narnian scouts may now be overhead, his ring reacting once again to the magic it was meant to perform. Kvraísta hissed loudly and grabbed his wrist, digging her claws into his skin. The Old Teacher howled in the sudden pain.

"Silence!" Kvraísta said, "This is your brand, do not forget. Your incompetence has left us impatient and hungry."

Ortemius glared into the eyes of the Follower, his jaw set squarely as he felt his blood run hot down his now severed wrist. Kvraísta narrowed her eyes, "If you do not return to us with a better reason for being Follower, then you pay the price."

Ortemius gritted his teeth and the hag let him go. "Remember my words," she said in her frail and darkly tinted voice, "Spellcaster."

Eleanor sat at her vanity, the torchlight of her quarters flooding the vast enclosure in a rich ensemble of gold. She had changed into a lace and cotton nightgown, one identical to what she had previously worn during her first night in Narnia, and presently, the lady idly brushed the locks of her auburn hair to a tame state.

"_Here," he said softly. Eleanor glanced to the side and found that a handkerchief was being handed to her. Politely, she accepted it, "Thank you."_

_Edmund stared down at Eleanor's small frame as she carefully wiped the tears from her face, "Is it all right if I sit with you?"_

_Eleanor quickly scooted aside, "Of course," she said, still softly, as if afraid to increase the volume of her voice. Edmund did seat himself down, close enough for a friendly space. He said nothing for a while though, to allow Eleanor to calm herself first as it deemed needed. But the lady quickly broke the silence and she looked up at him with worry, "I'm sorry, should I leave?"_

_Edmund raised his eyebrows, "Of course not," he said benignly, "What makes you think so?"__  
__Eleanor shook her head, "I wouldn't know," she replied, "I just…Do you come here often?"_

_Edmund nodded, "But what is wealth you don't share?"_

Eleanor looked into the elegantly framed mirror and noticed the reflection of the handkerchief at the bottom of the structure, folded neatly on the table before her. The princess furrowed her brow and gently picked up the plain accessory to hold between her fingers.

Eleanor squinted as she looked closely at the white fabric, noticing confused embroidery of silver thread in one corner of the handkerchief. After a few moments' worth of study, the lady realized that the lines were sewn in an excellent form of calligraphy characterizing the letters _E.P._ in pure silver thread. Eleanor raised her eyebrows. Undoubtedly, _E.P._ were the initials belonging to King Edmund, but for what _P_ stood, the lady did not know. Humming dismissively, Eleanor shook her head with a brief close of her eyes.

From the initials, vines and floral patterns curled and twisted in intricate designs to form the royal insignia of Aslan that was common throughout the Empire. However, every monarch, as far as Eleanor knew from what she had read from the books at the Beaver's dam, tried to modify every insignia until it was forged into something that could represent a certain and distinct trait. In Edmund's case, as it seemed to be, the insignia looked as if to be a shield, as the ones seen worn by knights in battle. Curious, Eleanor wondered what the shield might mean between the four monarchs, and what insignias did the other three royals hold as their own. She cocked her head to one side and read the initials _E.P. _again, and when she did, her heart gave a startling flutter. Quickly, Eleanor shook her head again and laid the handkerchief back on the table.

The day had certainly proved itself to be most uncommon, especially given what had happened in the courtyards at the peak of the morn, the encounter with the Council Teacher Ortemius, and the mirror.

Eleanor bit her lip at the sight of her reflection, tired, weakened and pale. She knew what many might think of her features, and they would begin with her eyes, those silver little specks of emptiness that would remain blind to the beauty of life, or at least until life ever became beautiful. Her lips would never curl any higher than a simple smirk, if there would really be anything to smirk about. And these notions would continue on and on until there would be nothing left to say about the princess aside from the fact that she was a destitute of any form of merriment.

The lady's thoughts suddenly shifted to only a few hours ago in the Royal Gardens. Edmund had looked at her with something more than just the sympathy and concern he normally would have expressed, for this time, he seemed to offer something else. What it was, Eleanor thought she could never understand, however she knew she recognized that sort of gaze, as if she had seen it somehow, somewhere, and from some_one_ in her distorted past.

Then at dinner, conversation was light and merry, as if it had made up completely for the strained air of earlier noon, for Lucy had her brilliant smile spread naturally across her face, Susan had her musical laugh to fill the hall, and Peter and Edmund had entertained the occupants of the table with a very witty, and rather naughty, debate about whether or not a dwarf would be able to pole vault over a five-foot fence. To which side did each king belong to, I'd rather not specify, for it wouldn't be kind. And if one were to ask me of who would be most deprived of my benevolence, the King Peter, King Edmund or the dwarves, I'd say all.

Eleanor smiled inwardly to herself at the memory before her eyes once more fell on the Just king's handkerchief on the vanity table.

_I should return it come morrow,_ she thought purposefully and stood up to walk to her bed, subconsciously holding the Lion head pendant in her hand. Strangely enough, her heart seemed to be at peace and contentment, until the necklace began to flare in her hand.

Gasping more out of surprise than of the pain that seared her palm, Eleanor froze and stared down at the golden artistry, watching the Lion's head illuminate slightly.

A knock sounded on the door and Eleanor whirled around bidding a hasty, "Enter."

Svéda's graceful figure appeared through the doorway and she curtsied in respect while the door stood ajar, "Good evening, Milady," said she.

Eleanor swallowed quietly, still holding onto the pendant and feeling the pain in her palm heightening, "Good evening, Svéda. What brings you here?"

"It is only right that I ask if you are in need of any more assistance this evening, Mistress," the naiad replied with an easy smile, her eyes glittering like the ocean's waves when graced with moonlight. Eleanor shook her head, "Everything is all right, Svéda. Thank you for asking."

"Very good, Mistress," Svéda curtsied again, "Till morn, I suppose."

"Certainly, Svéda," Eleanor smiled kindly and watched as the naiad let herself out. The pendant in the princess's hand returned to its cold metallic feel.

Eleanor frowned worriedly. _What in the world?_ she thought uncertainly and walked to seat herself on the bed's edge, "Oh, Eleanor," she whispered tiredly, "You certainly have had quite a day today, haven't you?"

The princess reached over to the candleholder on the bedside table and blew onto the timid flame until it extinguished, leaving only the soft light from the fireplace to contest with that from the moonlight streaming from the balcony glass. Eleanor hummed softly as she climbed into bed, resting gratefully in the warm sheets of cotton. Already, the lady's eyes began to shut, to surrender to the tranquil ambiance of sleep's element. It was perhaps the most peaceful night Eleanor ever remembered having in her life.

_Laughter. The very symbol of musical drollery, the song of the merry, the word of which was nigh alien in nature to Princess Eleanor of Borovia._

_Carefully, she opened her eyes in hopes of finding the source of that beautiful sound. Instead, the lady found herself facing a long dark and heavy tapestry of the finest velvet and deepest shade of red. Its crevices of folds blackened into perfect lines, and its very touch was smooth against her pale fingers. Eleanor slowly pulled it back to reveal a mirror peeking as if prudently from behind. Then, with a swift motion of decisive finality, the lady drew back the entirety of the curtain, which moved but most obediently under her will, and stared at her present reflection._

_She was not at all in Narnian ensemble, for her garments were heavy and laced. Staring back at her was a figure dressed in scarlet and gold, with black embroidery around the bodice of the dress. The sleeves were large from the shoulders and snug at the wrists, and the neckline was lowered modestly and adorned with fine lace. _

_What more, Eleanor expected to see the golden chain of her Lion head necklace against the paleness of her skin, when in place she found but a silver chain with only three accentuating pearls._

_However what surprised her most of all, was the silver crown on her head, sitting idly in her neatly pinned auburn hair. Eleanor raised a hand and felt the crown, her fingers exploring where there were depressions of floral designs, twisting purposefully in a most complicated pattern. Eleanor stared into her own eyes, grey and cold, conveying a message of blankness and innocence._

_Laughter._

_Eleanor turned and furrowed her brow, greeting the sight of a long and somewhat endless hallway with hesitance and suggested fear. The walls rose tall, and the ceiling arched only so perfectly with supportive stone structures. One wall to her left was lined with proud monarchial banners and framed canvases, and the other with great open windows from which moonlight was permitted to stream through with the long and light curtains teased and dancing in the gentle whispers of the wind._

_Eleanor swallowed and walked forward, curious to see what imagery the banners and canvases held that made them worthy of being placed on the stonewalls of the castle. The lady swallowed and regarded the first banner with full comprehension as she saw brightly sewn calligraphy against what should have been red silk, were it not for the bluish tint of the nocturne's weak lustre, _'Élovre vreo Évnilovansk. Novéra Bfiverran esk Vighe tü Wrolivrevich.'

_The moonlight seemed to as if illuminate the letters on its own, perhaps to give an added glory and significance to the already strong words. Another burst of laughter chimed through the hallway, and Eleanor was immediately brought out of her trance. She turned to her right, attentive ears pining for more to hear and enjoy. But when she did, the lady caught sight of a framed canvas only paces away. For the meantime, she willed herself to push away the fevered need to find the source of the jovial voices that continued to whisper through the hall, and she walked forward with slow calculating steps towards the canvas._

_Looking up, the princess found herself staring into the most striking grey eyes she had ever seen. They belonged to the proud beholder of a woman, whose age was only reflected in the wrinkles of her once unforgettably beautiful face. The frame was plain, made of polished dark wood that was smooth and perfect, and very befitting for any royal, but just like any such frame that held any such canvas, there were the distinctive inscriptions carved out and clear below, right at the center reading, 'Vericha, Régale fra Varchovich.'_

_Silence. Eleanor felt the rush of the evening's cold and unwelcoming wind as it tousled her tame locks from under her crown and taunted her unstable emotions that weighed dangerously on the balances of her racing heart. _

_There was once a time the lady felt she knew so well, a time when she joined her mother in the very room depicted in this canvas. There was once a time when the child that she used to be would watch the painter as he patiently tried to capture every striking feature of the queen, carefully gracing his canvas with soft strokes from his brush, occasionally glancing at the queen to ensure that his mistakes, if ever he had committed them at all, will be minimal and capable of being mended when necessary._

_Everything was indeed projected in the image, every line on her mother's face, the glint in her eye, the slight twitch of her thin lips. Her garments were made of all sorts of silks and satin, velvet and lace, and they fell gracefully to the floor in humble modesty, as if expressing the characteristic of the queen to be simple and uninterested in the overwhelming privileges of being monarchy._

_There was once a time the lady felt she knew so well, a time when she would lose her interest in observing the artistry of the painter as he completed his craft, and the little princess would slightly open her mouth in a suppressed yawn and walk out of the room in search for someone who perhaps may have time for her at the moment given. And this was her father._

_Eleanor swallowed back her tears, willing herself to keep strong and unaffected by the games of her now vexing mind._

"_Mida!"_

_She froze, the name ringing with invitation from quarters further down the hall. Eleanor's grey eyes however remained on the next canvas they found, one of her father, King Marthelius. On his frame did it read with accordance, 'Marthelius, Régal fra Varchovich.'_

_He had a handsome face, or at least despite his age, one could still see that he had quite an amount of charm. His eyes were hazel, but not quite dark, the kind of darkness that would have put Eleanor ill at ease. The princess furrowed her brow, the thought crossing her mind then and there. She _had_ seen those eyes before, hadn't she, eyes that were dark and comforting, loving, warm, and yet…playful? Ridiculous. The lady's mind reeled with trying to recall where she had seen those eyes, seen them exist, experience their penetrating gaze, but to no avail._

_Once again, the princess refused to allow her heart the dominion over her mind, and so she pushed her sentiments aside and resorted to raising a hand to touch the glass barring her way from between she and her father. Her fingers fell on the hand of her father that lay palm down on his knee. Wasn't there a time as well, when that hand took hers and closed around her little feeble fingers as he gently ushered her out the room, for he had work to finish, and then his deep voice would tell her to approach two of probably the most special people in her life. They were of course, none other than Ludwig and Mathilda, young rightful heirs to the throne, and both of which were painted onto their own individual canvases that hung aside each other only ten feet away from the quarters from where Eleanor heard continuous melodic laughter._

_Mathilda stood at an angle, her back turned to the painter, but her beautifully shaped face looking back with her lips fixed in a gentle smile, her bright eyes, the same shade as her mother's joining in the smile of her lips. In her hand, which peeked from behind a formal cloak was a white rose, at the sight of which Eleanor found herself whispering, "Flüvrea."_

_Mathilda's auburn hair was however free of any pins and crown, but was instead let down in waves with a simple headband of perfectly rounded pearls, suiting her blue-gray gown. The inscription on her frame read, 'Mathilda-Frénze, Régale fra Varchovich.'_

_Eleanor strode to the final canvas, but to her surprise, found that this frame was completely empty. She furrowed her brow as she read the inscription, 'Ludwig-Frénz, Régal fra Varchovich.'_

"_Cáuntërra, Mida!" _

_Eleanor spun around, only realizing that she was now face-to-face with the entrance of the quarters she had been meaning to enter. A child's giggle sounded from inside accompanied by two other voices that were also in laughter. One would be able to tell of the existence of one voice being male and the other a mature female's. Eleanor found herself making her way closer to the tall wooden doors that were slightly ajar, and she would have simply let herself in if it weren't for her fear. There was fear, and she could feel it. But where was it coming from, and why was it even there there?_

_Shaking her head, a reply reached her ears from inside the room, coming from a woman, "Oürmamer síven évansk rechátuv, Eleanor-sîthénna," Mathilda's voice said gently._

"_Pren, Mathilda-sîthénna…" the little voice begged woefully and said nothing more. Eleanor bit her trembling lip to keep from crying, her eyes beginning to well with fresh tears at the sound of her sister's gentle tone. _So,_ she thought. _This is how it feels to be with family.

_At last. But what would she find? Would she, Eleanor, really dare to open the doors and find what her heart had been searching for? Was she willing to face the fact that she might not only see her two beloved siblings, but also her younger self? The Child. The Child who ran in cowardice away from her family, the Child who hid away in the forest for nearly a third of her lifetime, relying on the deserted reputation of the deepest parts of the wood. The Child Eleanor whose past was scarred, whose present was confused, whose future remained undecided._

Haven't I been waiting long enough?_ the princess thought, her mind reeling with its debate against entering the quarters and just staying outside. But her heart begged more persistently, just as it should when going against the reasoning of the brain, and so Eleanor carefully pushed the door open and stepped inside._

_The chambers were a vast enclosure, but strangely not intimidating. It in fact held a certain warmth and welcoming air, for its furnishings were simple and rather kind to the eyes. On the right side of the room were two very long windows. The curtains were drawn and Eleanor could see the full moon its high place in the dark sky. From the glass she could see a reflection of a blazing fire coming from the other corner, it's flame danced and crackled quietly, giving the room a radiance unimaginably beautiful. The mahogany polished floors stretched beneath the lady's feet, and on the walls were wooden pillar-like builds that upon which were engravings of monarchial insignias, and floral designs common to what Eleanor remembered from the past. And on the left wall, was a framed canvas so large that it occupied nearly half of from where it hung. Eleanor swallowed hard as she realized what was depicted in the painting: the three Varchovich heirs._

_She walked closer, folding her hands weakly near her heart as she did, her feet making heavy and decisive footsteps on the wooden floor. Eleanor closed her eyes and came to a halt, taking a deep breath and then opening them again._

_As she looked up, she was met with three pairs of eyes, those of course belonged to her and her siblings. The image was set in a place in a royal garden, and a very familiar-looking garden it was. Eleanor furrowed her brow as her eyes fell on a stone bench in the middle of the sanded path, that upon which Mathilda sat. Her eyes were bright and intelligent, and her posture was dainty and most befitting for the young princess. Her dress was a long and gossamer, with light silks adding the finishing touches. A blue satin ribbon was tied around her waist and it was long trailing almost to the ground. On her lap was the child Eleanor, her long auburn hair was tied in a loose ponytail behind her head, with her locks resting on her shoulder. The child's cheeks were rosy, perhaps from warm weather, and her smile was small and natural. The sisters held in their arms, a great number of flüvrea, all in full bloom and handsomely white. Some however had fallen on the ground, either on purpose or just by the wind. But wherever they were, the white roses were beautiful and incandescent under the sunlight._

_Behind the sisters was Ludwig, who was just leaning against the bench with one knee beside Mathilda. He was bent slightly forward, his arms around both of his sisters and his thin lips in a contented smile. In his right hand was a white rose, only it looked as if it was just about to bloom. _

_Eleanor could already feel her heart wrenching, overwhelmed by the emotions that coursed through her inner being. She looked hesitantly into the eyes of her brother, unknowing that it was something she would sorely regret, for the moment she did, his face had begun to change, and before it was even known to the lady, she was already staring into the eyes of the Just king of Narnia, and he smiled not. Eleanor saw his dark gaze and felt a cold shiver of worry run down her spine._

Dvélivrevich.

_Eleanor gasped and shut her eyes tightly, turning away from the canvas as if that wasn't enough. Her heart beat wildly in her chest, the sound pounding in her ears with fervor. The princess calmed herself at once. _

_Returning her gaze to the canvas, Eleanor cringed. The image had changed completely and it was nothing welcoming to her eyes. The painting was dark, and the sky had changed from cheery morning to a dead night. The green surrounding grass of the garden looked wilted and somber, and the sand had turned into a sickly grey. Then, above all, Eleanor could no longer see her siblings. The bench was halved in a jagged manner, with one crushed into rubble on the ground. The other half remained standing, still strong enough to allow one young woman to have sat down. Eleanor narrowed her eyes, and she saw that the woman who had taken her seat was herself. There she was, sitting alone with one hand nearly covering her mouth, her face fixed in the picture of pain, and in her pale hand was a flüvrea. Although, it was no longer white, rather it was black, as black as black ever was._

_Eleanor shook her head the painting shifted its image. Inks of different colors started to form behind the bench, as if an invisible artist was at work on another subject. Within moments, Eleanor saw that the subject was Edmund. She watched as the image finished and the king was presently standing behind the bench, and behind the painting of herself. His arms were around her consolingly. That would have been a surprise to her, if it weren't for what she had seen held in the king's hand. It was a beautiful, white and blooming flüvrea._

_The sudden sound of the chimes of a music box tore Eleanor's attention away from the canvas. She turned around to see her siblings and the Child, in the middle of the room and in sight, so vivid, so clear, so real. They could not see her however, despite the fact that she was right there before them. Strange as this was, Eleanor couldn't help but pay it no mind, and just watch Mathilda smiled as she set down the music box on a mahogany table aside a fairly big doll. Eleanor inched closer as her sister produced strings from behind the doll's back, holding them in one hand and then carrying the doll with her to let it stand on the floor before her little sister and Ludwig, who were seated together on a carpet, Child on Ludwig's lap._

"_Why," Eleanor found herself whispering, "It's a puppet."_

_Mathilda cleared her throat as she held the puppet slightly above the ground as she knelt and began to sing in her sweet melody of a voice._

'_Vans brövan quavéarovich,_

_Hrén vir cáunth, en tvenna,_

_Mendh évansk, Varchovîch,_

_Vans dévinn q'Bfivoria.'_

_The toy danced at the direction of the puppeteer's hands and reached out and blew a kiss to its small audience by the end of the song. The elder princess smiled and repeated her lullaby just as the Child began to close her eyes in a peacefully deep sleep, her head resting on her brother's chest. Ludwig kissed her hair, shutting his eyes for the brief moment._

_Eleanor knelt on the ground aside Mathilda and she saw the puppet take a clumsy bow. The music box then shut its lid mechanically on its own and the only sound that was left to be heard was the crackling fire in the corner of the room. Mathilda rose silently, leaving the puppet lying face down on the floor as she joined her siblings only a few feet away._

"_Ludwig-bröthenna," she whispered, careful not to wake her sleeping sister, "Esk recháth."_

"_Révansk fen frudévich?" Ludwig smiled as he took his sister's hand. Mathilda chuckled silently and nodded, "Sé rechátuv en m'chéndrh," she replied and kissed the child's hair, "Avön," she added and Ludwig hugged his sister with a free arm._

_Eleanor watched as the three siblings fell into their mild slumber, not caring for anything else around them, and blind to their horrid fate. It broke her heart, to come to a realization to exactly how much she had lost in the past. _

_Eleanor looked sadly to the floor and her eyes caught sight of the puppet lying alone on the ground. Biting her lip, the lady picked it up and cradled it in her arms, facing it upward until she could see its carved face smiling back at her. Looking up at her siblings again, the lady smiled, "Sé elovre venska, s'nombröthenna," she said._

Yes,_ she thought._ This is indeed how it feels to be with family.

_Eleanor looked down at the puppet and watched its face slowly shift. Creasing her eyebrows upward, Eleanor saw the puppet's favor suddenly smile in a maniacally calm manner, and its eyes, once a soft shade of blue, was suddenly a brilliant flash of green. Accordingly, Eleanor dropped the toy to the floor, ensuring that its face hit the wood with a terrible sound._

**Author's Note: **Ok, I am aware that it's been a bit dark in the last few chapters (this _in_cluded) but I promise the next chapter should be brighter! Why? Because we get to visit Archenland. Yay! (Ok, I'm shallow.) But it should be a relief after all of this nightmarish aura, right? :D Let me know what you think of this so far!

In the name of the Lion, on with the adventure!

_**Borovian Dictionary:**_

**Élovre vreo Évnilovansk. Novéra Bfiverran esk Vighe tü Wrolivrevich.**- Love thy enemies. Borovia welcomes no hatred and war.

_**Régal(e) fra Varchovich**_- Royal of the Varchovich ('e'- feminine use)

**Cáuntërra, Mida!**- Sing, Mida!

**Oürmamer síven évansk rechátuv, Eleanor-sîthénna.**- Mother says you must rest.

**Pren, Mathilda-sîthénna.**- Please, Mathilda.

**Vans brövan quavéarovich,**

**Hrén vir cáunth, en tvenna,**

**Mendh évansk, Varchovîch,**

**Vans dévinn q'Bfivoria.**

On the wind and oceans far

Hear my song and recall

Listen well, Little Varchovîch

You'll soon be home

_(A royal lullaby, traditionally sang within the monarchial families.)_

**Ludwig-bröthenna, esk recháth.**Ludwig, it's bedtime.

**Révansk fen frudévich.**- Are you tired?

**Sé rechátuv en m'chéndrh. Avön.**- I'll rest and go to bed. Later.

**Sé elovre venska, s'nombröthenna.**- I love you, my siblings.

_**Press button below!**_


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